New Patterns & Old Fr : 03 Fighting Back
by kalinda001
Summary: New Patterns & Old Fr Series. #3. Avon is still under Servalan's control. He is reluctantly working to expand her personal empire. The crew are being hunted in their damaged ship they still think Avon is dead. Lots of angst for Avon.
1. Chapter 1

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Fighting Back**

Chapter One

Allren was tired of the _Justice_ crew always saying, "Avon could have done it." For a man none of them trusted, they certainly had a high opinion of him. At least the ship was back to one hundred percent now and they could drop Ture and him off. Ture and Allren were tech mercenaries Argus had commissioned to help break into the Advanced Medical Research facility on Tingash in the Singoa system; a mission which had gone horribly wrong.

They had fallen into a Federation trap shortly after entering orbit. Surrounded by eight Federation assault vessels, they had barely escaped with their lives. If it hadn't been for Avon's new Sopron mirror projector, they would not have escaped at all. As it was, the ship had been badly damaged and they had been hounded from sector to sector ever since, never being able to stay in one place long enough for full repairs or to recharge the energy banks. The Federation was nothing if not ruthlessly persistent.

The tactical skill of Argus, with ORAC's assistance and Jenna's flying skill had gotten them out of one difficult situation after another but without Avon's Sopron projector, even with their skills, it would have been impossible to survive.

Now it had broken down.

Fortunately, after seven weeks, the pressure had relieved somewhat; they hadn't run into any Federation ships for almost five standard days. The autorepair had finally been able to complete repairs. They were currently in Sector Eight on the outer rim hiding inside an asteroid belt while the energy banks recharged.

Allren had made an attempt at repairing the Sopron projector but to no avail, other than the burnt out circuits which he was able to replace, there was also technology he was totally unfamiliar with. It had an organic feel to it which was completely alien to him. He had made an effort at fixing it but without understanding what made it work, he was afraid he had made it worse.

Allren came down the steps onto the flight deck; Jenna and Vila were at their control stations. It was Argus's rest cycle. Cally was not in evidence and neither was his mercenary friend Ture; they were probably together again. These days the two of them seemed to go off together a lot. Allren sighed, he was glad that Ture had found some female companionship. The computer analyst had always been anti-social at best, except with his other hacker friends, Allren had been the exception; they had both served together in the same tech group of the Federation Assault Forces and had deserted together.

"Anything interesting happen while I was asleep?" he asked.

"Nothing on the scanners," Jenna told him.

"I beat Jenna," Vila replied. He was referring to the game of three-dimensional Marsian checkers they had been playing hours earlier.

"You cheated," Jenna said acidly.

"It's not called cheating, it's called skill," Vila said.

They had all wanted some boredom after almost two months of being on the run, now they were getting their wish.

* * *

"I am very disappointed Admiral, I gave you the resources of an entire Task Group and you still cannot manage to destroy one ship?" Servalan was not pleased.

"We were unprepared for the new defensive capability at their disposal, Madame President. With it, they are virtually impossible to pinpoint with any accuracy." Admiral Bender had never understood why it was necessary for an entire Task Group to be assigned to destroy a single ship, especially when the Federation resources were already stretched thin. Space Command's fleet was only at forty percent of its original strength since the alien invasion at Star One. He still did not understand.

"That sounds suspiciously like an excuse Bender, and you also appear to have completely lost track of them."

"It's true that we haven't been able to find them, but we are making patterned patrol sweeps. We should be able to pick up their trail again."

With a functional anti-detector screen, after a week, the ship could be anywhere by now. This man was a fool; the Federation President had no time for fools.

"I cannot stand incompetence Bender. Report back to Federation Space Command."

Servalan terminated the connection before the man could reply, she buzzed her assistant.

"Yes Madame President."

"Get Admiral Ves of Federation Space Command on the comm for me."

"Yes, Ma'am. Psychostrategist Sester is waiting to see you."

"Alright, send him in."

* * *

Sester strode confidently into the Presidential office and seated himself opposite her. Psychostrategists tended to have an air of easy superiority which would have been extremely annoying if their reputations weren't so well-deserved.

"Good morning Madame President. You don't look happy this morning."

"And you are looking much too cheerful."

"With good reason, things are going according to plan. Our friend is working out even better than we expected."

"How is he doing?"

"Given the circumstances he is in, if he were capable of normal emotion, he should be suffering from depression; anyone else would have tried to kill themselves by now, and we're not even allowing him that option. The stress is starting to manifest itself physically though, which brings me to why I'm here. You can't keep working him like this, without any adequate rest between the work sessions. He needs at least one day of real rest occasionally; I'd like to give him that."

It had been four months since Servalan had punished Avon by working him until he collapsed. Without being given enough time to fully recover from his ordeal, he had been returned to his normal work cycle of long days, with only four hours of rest in between.

In his last few visits, Sester had noticed Avon becoming increasingly listless. The analyst displayed the same caustic wit, but it was missing that dangerous edge. It was clear he was only responding because he did not have a choice; he was beginning to behave more like the tool they were using him as.

"Very well," she trusted Sester's assessments, "but he must be kept contained. Do not make the mistake of giving him any latitude, Sester."

"Madame President, a psychostrategist like me would never make that mistake. I respect his capabilities far too much for that."

"I will have to clear some time in my schedule to make a visit," she told him. With her Presidential duties taking up the majority of her time, she had not visited Avon in over a month.

"More fun and games?" he asked.

"It is dangerous to presume Sester."

He smiled, "Of course. I'd also like to talk about this new project you're going to put him on."

* * *

Avon sat at the table in the large room which served as his laboratory. His manacled hands were resting on the surface of the table, in full view of the guards and his technical minders. He was waiting for his next assignment.

The technical minders were Federation military tech specialists who were supposed to keep an eye on his work. He discovered early on that they were nowhere near his level of either intelligence or expertise, and could be misdirected.

The pressure in his head was building; they had activated the mind trigger before he had been taken out of his cell, as they normally did. Unfortunately the group they were waiting for were late in arriving. Avon rubbed his left wrist restlessly.

The trigger was an implanted control which when used, activated the conditioning which forced a state of heightened mental activity. Once activated, the pressure in his head would build exponentially unless he applied his mind to a task set by Servalan or the psychostrategist, or until it was turned off using the complimentary trigger which had been implanted. There was no way to fight it. His mind was not even consciously aware when the triggers were being applied. By now the conditioning was so deeply ingrained that only the voices of his two enemies were required to activate the triggers, and unless the condition was turned off, his mind would work until he collapsed. This was something he had been forced to experience when he had angered Servalan four months ago.

To take his mind off the increasing strain in his head, he began reviewing his plans. He knew he was playing a long and dangerous game and he would have to pay a painful price; but to beat Servalan and Sester there was no other choice.

He had already taken the initial steps during the visits from Sester, it had not been difficult. With the schedule they were forcing him to work, he was already constantly exhausted both in mind and body. He was testing Sester's response, and to what extent Servalan trusted the psychostrategist. He knew Sester would be suspicious, and Servalan definitely would be, but they were playing this game on many levels, and his two opponents did not know which ones were the important ones for him.

He grimaced as a stab of pain originated from his back, with the constant stress they were putting him under; it was starting to become a major problem.

In addition, his body was covered with a mass of bruises from the constant abuse by the guards; they would never let him forget that he had killed one of their own. Because the injuries were not ones inflicted by the interrogators, they were left untreated, which the guards knew very well. They were very good at inflicting pain which did not leave a visible mark, and injuries which were not serious enough that a medtech would be forced to report it to be actioned.

A group of four entered the room, three men and a woman. The guards pushed in several anti-grav carts full of equipment behind them.

_Finally._

Avon recognized one of them, an older tanned man who walked stiffly, and whose eyes had a perpetual squint, which always made it look like he was deep in thought. It was Professor Ekron, he had been here before; his area of specialty was advanced propulsion theory. The professor tended to be the typical absent-minded academic; but he also had the added faults of a superior attitude towards anyone who could not catch up to his mental speed and jealousy towards those who could.

The first time Ekron had worked with Avon, he had not liked being ordered to seek the help of someone who was clearly a criminal; but he had come to grudgingly respect the analyst's mind and abilities, especially since the prisoner did not appear to be any threat to him and only served to advance his career.

The other three from the research group looked at the prisoner with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Normally Avon worked alone but occasionally others were brought in who were essential to the project he was assigned to. They were all given specific instructions before being allowed into the facility, and were sworn to secrecy. None of the project teams ever knew his identity and they were all warned against trying to find out anything about him. There was to be no interaction on a personal level at all.

Ekron made introductions.

"This is Professor Tyler, her fields are advanced energy phase physics and time distort theory." The woman nodded at the introduction; she looked at the prisoner warily. There was nothing remarkable about her face, but her eyes were sharp; it was clear that she had assessed the situation and was sceptical at the benefits of being here.

Brena Tyler was a well respected scientist, the project they would all be working on was a result of her landmark work in the application of phase physics to the highly classified field of time distort theory. The reason why they were all here was because they had reached an impasse in their research. There were some major design flaws in the application of the theories which had caused some unfortunate and spectacularly large accidents. The scale of the accidents themselves had pointed to great potential in the basic design concepts, but Tyler and the two engineers had been at an impasse for over two years, and had only been able to make limited progress.

After his success at using the prisoner in his own project, Professor Ekron had suggested to his superiors that the analyst would be invaluable in helping Professor Tyler's research team. Of course, the fact that his name would also be attached to a project which was both lucrative and of high importance to the Federation was also a factor in his suggestion.

Both professors wore the standard white lab coats.

"These two are Senior Engineers Delan and York. Their area of expertise is advanced flight engine design." These two wore the dark blue coveralls marking them as Federation ship engineers. Between them Delan and York knew the details of every flight engine in the Federation's fleet.

York was a tall, willowy man; an engineer by trade but was really a frustrated scientist at heart. He had a natural ability to bridge the gap between theory and practical design. He had a gentle manner which did not characterize the typical Federation military engineer, and did not like to offend anyone.

Delan was a broad-shouldered man who despite the handicap of having two delta graded parents, had risen quickly through the ranks in Federation military and had shown early aptitude in the area of flight engineering design. His practical knowledge surpassed that of his fellow engineer. He was a man who knew how to get what he wanted and had little respect for those who didn't.

The prisoner ignored the introductions and did not even look at the engineers. "What can I do for you this time?" he asked Ekron.

"I want to thank you for your help with the analysis for the teleron chamber. It solved the problem nicely."

The nameless prisoner looked at him indifferently, he wished the man would get on with the problem; the pressure in his head was inescapable, the effort to contain it was starting to become difficult.

If he had spared Ekron a thought, he would have identified the professor as a greedy, insincere, ambitious, and unprincipled opportunist; and if he had a choice, he would have hated being used by a man he normally would have had disdain for; as he had disdain for all human beings in general.

"Get on with it," he said tonelessly.

"And what do we call you?" Delan asked; the engineer had not liked being ignored.

The prisoner looked at him expressionlessly, he had no interest in responding and even if he had, he was not allowed to initiate or respond to personal questions.

Ekron stepped in, "That's not important Delan. Why don't you and York unpack the equipment?" He turned to the prisoner, "I have a much more complex problem for you this time."

The engineers, with the assistance of the guards, began unpacking the equipment in one corner of the huge lab.

The two scientists began explaining their task and the difficulties they had encountered. They showed him their notes and the results of the experiments they had conducted so far. Professor Tyler also gave the analyst a briefing on her theories and her fields of expertise.

As they were giving their presentation, Avon was making his own personal mental notes along with the written ones; he was only allowed to use an old-style graphite writing stylus and paper. So far, they had not trusted him with anything resembling a computer.

_More complex is an understatement. This may be the opportunity I was looking for_, thought the analyst.

From what he was hearing, Avon knew that the development and building of the new phase-time distort engine they were proposing would require extensive complex analysis and simulations, which could only be done in any reasonable period of time with a computer. Without it, the chance of something going horrendously wrong was more an inevitability than a possibility.

He would do his absolute best within the limitations they had given him. Sester and Servalan would know soon enough that the task they had set him to was impossible without the resources of a computer, if they didn't already. How he handled it would determine what opportunities would be open to him later on.

* * *

"What you're asking is not possible."

The phase-TD engine group had brought in Harlin, a top computer analyst to help with the projections; he was the third one in the past two weeks. Without being allowed a computer in the lab, they had to rely on the nameless prisoner giving instructions to a computer analyst, who went away to program the model simulations and returned with the results. So far none of the other two had been up to the demands of what was required, Harlin was their last hope.

The researchers were getting frustrated. The only one who did not seem fazed was the prisoner, but of course his face was always expressionless; he never seemed to react to anything. Professor Tyler had found it disconcerting at first; it was almost like working with a computer rather than a human being. The scientists and the engineers were observing as the prisoner talked to Harlin.

"You've spent three days at it and all you come back with is 'It's not possible?'" the prisoner asked with a clear but dispassionate sarcasm, "What about the formulae I gave you?"

"I couldn't fit it into the design of the simulation."

The man was a talented computer analyst, but clearly not on the prisoner's level.

"Show me what you did."

For the next two hours, the prisoner pored over Harlin's datapad and built a detailed calculation model of what had been done. He walked the computer analyst through the problems in the models he had created and what had been required.

"Why did you not compensate for the drift effect?" the prisoner pointed out several places which were in error. Here and here. You should have used the new set of formulae I gave you here the moment the energy equalization curve expanded beyond the normal range, remember time distort theory reacts completely differently with phase physics. You've missed three whole layers of calculations here, four if the flow energy has a blow-back effect at this point. You're model of the flow controller is not dynamic enough for the energies at that stage. In this simulation it should be showing a phase implosion at this point. If we had built it according to these numbers, we would all be dead in a satisfyingly large explosion."

Over the past two weeks, as the prisoner tested each computer analyst, Professor Ekron and Tyler had been impressed with the prisoner's grasp of the subject matter. Even though he had only been given an abbreviated briefing of the theories and research they were going to be using, it was clear that he had an instinctive grasp of the problems involved and the wider implications.

Tyler was curious about this nameless prisoner and found it increasingly difficult to not treat him as a human being. At first it was his intelligence which fascinated her, a brilliance which she had reluctantly admitted, surpassed her own; Tyler herself was ranked as a genius in her own field. Even though he never interacted with any of them on a personal level, there was still a lot she could tell about him from his work, and from the ways he chose to not respond, in his interactions with the researchers, and in particular with the guards and tech minders. The prisoner appeared to totally ignore the fact that they were using him and was completely focused on the work.

This man was a prisoner but at the same time he was not; there was something about him which refused to be imprisoned. Even though the Centre personnel were cruel and had full control over him, he treated them as if they were nothing, barely concealing his contempt. Tyler wished that she and her team could interact with him on a personal basis; she did not feel comfortable using him like a tool.

She had learned to be careful when making requests of him or asking him questions when it became clear that the minders were intent on forcing obedience even if the request proved unreasonable. There was always an atmosphere of tension and threat between the minders and guards, and the prisoner.

"Look, I'm a computer analyst, not a physicist, or an engineer. How am I supposed to build this model without specific details?" asked Harlin angrily. He had not liked having all of his mistakes pointed out to him in such detail, and definitely not before an audience.

"Yes, I'd like to know that too," remarked Delan, not trying too hard, not to be heard, as he watched the interaction between the prisoner and the computer analyst. The engineer had never lost his hostility towards the prisoner and seemed determined to get the man to react.

As always, the prisoner ignored him and continued addressing Harlin,"For normal pedantic, beta-level analysis, the importance is in the details but for something like this, a model has to be built dynamically starting with a framework only. You have to shape it as it develops and reacts."

"What you're asking is impossible, no one can do that."

Ekron and Tyler did not voice it, but neither one of them understood what the prisoner was saying either.

"Obviously not you," the nameless prisoner sighed. This computer analyst was their last hope. He addressed the scientists, "I'm going to have to do it manually and I'm going to need help from all of you."

"Now that really is impossible, even if we all help you," Professor Tyler told him. Though she did not understand the type of analytical skill he was using, she could appreciate the enormity of the task they had set him. "Do you know the amount of time it would take you to do it manually?" she asked him.

"I don't have a choice," he replied. Without another word, he cleared the table and began building the model using paper and stylus. He already knew that it was impossible, that was what he was counting on.


	2. Chapter 2

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Fighting Back**

Chapter Two

Avon sat in his cell, waiting for the medtech with his sedative injection. He tested his right shoulder tentatively, it was painful. He was trying to breathe shallowly to avoid the sharp pain from his ribs. The guards had beaten him again for responding too slowly to a command; these days they barely seemed to need an excuse. He leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to shut out the pain. This time they must have broken at least one rib. They were normally careful to not cause this level of injury, for fear of getting in trouble.

The cell door slid open, the analyst opened his eyes. It was the psychostrategist.

He knew from experience that Sester would not leave him alone until he was satisfied. "What do you want now?"

"How are you feeling Avon?"

"Do you really expect an answer this time?" he replied tonelessly.

"Just being polite."

"Try it on someone else."

"You really are more comfortable with machines and computers than you are with people, aren't you?"

"They don't have an agenda, and they don't use me to keep themselves amused."

"You hate this don't you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not really."

Avon suddenly grimaced in pain, it was his ribs again.

"Are you alright?" Sester asked.

"Of course," the analyst replied his face an impassive mask again.

"I find your relationship with President Servalan fascinating. You've been trying to kill each other for years, but neither of you ever succeed; it's quite the game."

"It's not a game," Avon said coldly. "And there's nothing to discuss, she's won." He closed his eyes and leaned tiredly back against the wall.

"You're not dead yet."

"I'm not?" he asked sarcastically.

"Avon, look at me." Sester ordered him sharply. Avon opened his eyes and stared at the psychostrategist.

"You realize that if Servalan believes she has broken you, she will have you killed."

"She thinks she already has."

"No she doesn't, not in the important areas; neither do I and neither do you; otherwise you would already be dead."

Avon laughed ironically and then doubled over in pain. His guess had been correct; one of his ribs had been broken.

"You're not fine," Sester stated. He signalled for the security room observer to open the door. The door slid open in response; the medtech was waiting just outside. The psychostrategist ordered, "Sedate him."

Once Avon was unconscious, Sester directed the medtech to have him brought to the med-wing.

* * *

Once in the medical wing, they attendants removed the prisoner's coveralls and the doctor examined his patient. Sester was shocked; Avon's body was covered in a mass of bruises, some of them very recent.

"Why does he have so much bruising? No wonder he's in pain and avoids moving."

_And that must be why he appears listless._

"I did not authorize any interrogation cycles," Sester said to the doctor. Sester knew that a certain amount of bruising was normal in a facility like this, but this amount of injury had to be authorized and supervised.

The doctor replied, "The guards have discretion if prisoners are being difficult."

"This is more than just the result of 'being difficult'," Sester said angrily. "It looks like he's been heavily beaten, on a regular basis. Only the interrogators are allowed to inflict this level of damage. Why was this not reported to me?"

"I didn't know about this either," the doctor said defensively.

Sester turned on the medtech who had been administering Avon's injections, "You must have known."

"That's how things run here at the Centre sir," the medtech told him. "Prisoners receive treatment after interrogation cycles; for other things like punishment from the guards, unless there is severe injury, there is no protocol for treatment."

Sester knew that the medtech was only following the rules of the facility, and within those rules was ample room for abuse, but the man had no excuse. Centre personnel assigned to Avon were a select group who knew that there were special orders concerning him.

The psychostrategist addressed the doctor again, his voice was hard; and it produced uneasiness in those who heard it, "I want a complete examination and a detailed report sent to me."

"Yes, sir," replied the doctor, clearly intimidated.

To the medtech he said, "If the examination finds that there is any serious injury, and you did not report it for treatment, you will find yourself relegated to an E-grade, and stuck on a mining planet, digging ore for the rest of your life." His voice was like ice.

The medtech nodded silently. He knew that nothing he said at this point could make any difference. He could only hope that the report was favourable.

"Place him in the healing tank after you've finish your examination. Give him enough time in it to heal the majority of his injuries," he directed the doctor.

"Yes sir."

"Then return him to his cell and call me."

"You will be informed immediately sir."

Sester swept out of the room, he was still angry. A psychostrategist could only be hampered with the lack of information; this would have to be added to the list of factors in his strategy for Avon. Unknown factors made things unpredictable; no one could be allowed to interfere with Avon's treatments.

* * *

"Can't say it's been a pleasure this time Argus," Allren said as he and Ture prepared to leave, they were in the teleport room with Argus and Cally.

"Are you sure you don't want to join us?" Argus asked.

"You live much too dangerously for us. We're not rebels like you, Argus; we have no interest in politics. We just want to get paid."

"I've added a large bonus to your final payment."

"You're top grade. Let us know next time you need tech help."

"I will."

Allren and Ture stepped onto the teleport pad, Cally joined them.

"Put us down," she requested.

Half an hour later, Cally returned to the ship with the two teleport bracelets, her face was pensive.

"I thought you might not be coming back."

"I had to."

"I could have sent Vila down for the bracelets."

"You don't understand."

"You don't think so?"

"No, you don't, I can't leave, and I still have a debt to pay."

* * *

"We've had to use full power to slip those Federation patrols and it's drained our energy reserves again. We're down to two fully charged banks. If we run into another patrol now, we couldn't make more than standard and we'd barely be able to hold that," Jenna was giving Argus an assessment of their situation.

It had been several weeks after they had dropped the two tech mercenaries off. They had been trying to coordinate with various rebel units in different sectors who had been affiliated with them, only to find that they had all gone underground since the coordinated attack by Central Security which had taken out their West Europ Dome rebel alliance group. As a result, the _Justice_ had run into Federation forces periodically in those weeks and all of their tempers were getting thin from the constant danger and stress.

"We need somewhere to lie low until our energy banks are recharged," Argus agreed.

"At the very least, without Avon's Sopron mirror, we're much more vulnerable, and we have to be careful about using the anti-detector screen in case it goes out of commission too. Even if we could find someone to fix it, I remember last time on the Liberator, it was hard to find some of the parts it required."

"Our first priority is to find a safe place to hide." He turned towards Zen and asked, "Zen, show us the star grid of this sector and indicate the position of the _Justice_."

"Confirmed. The _Justice_ is indicated by the blue icon."

The display screen activated and showed a faintly gridded map of the system with various marked objects. The _Justice_ was a steady blue ship icon which glowed.

"Indicate possible safe locations in this sector which the _Justice_ will be able to hide from Federation patrols and is accessible given the current condition of the ship."

"Confirmed."

Several red marks began appeared on the grid map.

"What's at grid reference B by 12. That appears to be the closest one and seems to cover the entire grid square," Jenna asked next.

"Location specified is a charged asteroid belt. Energy discharge is not sufficient to cause damage to the _Justice_. Scanner beam operation will be disrupted while inside the asteroid belt, only close-range visual scanners will be operational."

"That means that our long- and medium-range scanners will be blind while inside the asteroid belt as well?"

"Affirmative."

"But does that also mean that no one would be able to scan us while we were inside it?"

"Confirmed."

Jenna looked at Argus.

He nodded, "Looks as good a place as any." He crossed over to ORAC and turned on the transmitter.

"ORAC, have you been listening?"

"It would have been impossible not to, considering none of you were trying not to be heard." The computer unit sounded annoyed, which was nothing unusual.

"ORAC, do an extrapolation of the movement patterns of the Federation patrols we have encountered. I want the safest possible route which will take us to the asteroid belt at grid reference B by 12."

"Very well," ORAC said irritably. After several seconds it responded, "Route has been mapped."

"Transfer the coordinates to Zen."

"Coordinates have been relayed."

"Zen, follow the pre-programmed course transferred by ORAC, best possible speed which will not draw into our energy reserves. Keep the anti-detector screen on until we enter the asteroid belt."

"Course and speed confirmed."

* * *

Several hours later they were safely inside the asteroid belt. The energy discharge outside made for a spectacular coloured light show on their visual scanners.

"All I want to know is when they will give up," Vila said; the coloured light display reminded him of a drug-induced dream he had once.

"The Federation has always been very persistent when they want to destroy something," said Cally. She added, "They will not give up easily."

"This is all feeling disturbingly familiar, not to mention giving me a severe persecution complex," Vila complained. He had enough of the dangerous life with Blake and on the Scorpio to last a lifetime, several lifetimes.

"Cally is right, they will not give up," Argus agreed with her.

"Then what do we do? We can't keep running like this. Eventually, they will find us when our energy reserves are too low for us to run, which is just about now, and without the Sopron projector, we are a easy target," Jenna remarked.

"We need to give them a distraction," Cally suggested.

"That's a good idea," Argus picked up on her suggestion. "Or better yet, multiple distractions."

"Everyone seems to forget that the last two months, every time we pop our heads up, we nearly get hit," Vila reminded them.

"That's the idea Vila. With more distractions, ours will no longer be the only heads."

"Oh, I see. Actually I don't see."

Jenna tried to explain, "It's like our last 3D checkers game Vila. You cheated outrageously and distracted me enough that I wasn't paying attention to your legitimate moves."

"I do not cheat outrageously," he said indignantly, "I cheat with style, but I get what you mean. It may be a very good idea but have you given any thought on how we're going to survive the setting up of these distractions?"

"We have to fight for survival anyways Vila," Jenna said, "Blake used to say 'fighting to survive is not as useful as surviving to fight'."

"That is not the kind of answer I was looking for," he told her.

"Since we're stuck here for a few days while the energy banks recharge, we can start coming up with ideas on possible distractions," Argus told them.

* * *

"How is work on the new phase-TD engine progressing?" Servalan asked the senior technical minder who was giving her his weekly report on the prisoner's progress.

"There hasn't been much progress since the last report. Actually there hasn't been much to report since the first report."

"They started four weeks ago; there should have been some progress by now."

"He's done a lot of work with calculations and designs on paper, and they've started building models for the various components, but they don't appear to be making much progress in terms of solving the design problems."

"That engine is needed for the new Mark II Starburst class pursuit ships, Krelis."

"I understand Madame President."

"Do you think he's stalling?"

"Not as far as I can tell."

Servalan knew something which had never been communicated to the minders. Sester had told her the impossibility of the task Avon had been given. He had told her that in order to complete new phase-TD engine, Avon required a computer.

"You are authorized to push him harder."

"Yes Madame President."

"Is Sester back yet?"

"Not yet."

Servalan had sent Sester out to Sector Ten to coordinate with the psychostrategy team there and assess the next stage of destabilization efforts in the warlord territories. Servalan had not been able to clear enough time to make a visit to the Special Detention Centre, but if things did not progress soon, she would have to make it a higher priority, especially since Sester was unavailable.

"Give instructions to the guards to begin the punishment protocols again, but I want it monitored carefully this time."

"Yes Madame President."

Servalan knew that Sester had stopped the abusive treatment by the guards, and she had agreed. That kind of treatment could only be authorized by Sester or herself, not low-level guards. It was a useful tool which, when meted out randomly at the sadistic whim of the guards, lost its effectiveness.

She knew that despite his overall lack of morality, Avon always keep his word, but that did not mean that he would not continually test the boundaries. She had been very serious about not giving him any latitude. Any game being played by the analyst would only result in pain for him. They wanted to know how much he was allowing himself to be pushed; and how he would respond when they forced him to do something which was clearly impossible, hence the directive to the minders to push Avon. They wanted to know what kind of game the analyst was playing.


	3. Chapter 3

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Fighting Back**

Chapter Three

"Don't you ever go home?" Engineer York asked the analyst jokingly as he entered the lab with his three companions, and saw the prisoner in what seemed to be the same position they had left him the night before. The prisoner was bent over a small model of the step transformer they were developing, making some adjustments.

He looked up at them briefly and then returned to his work without responding. They may have been brilliant scientists and engineers, but if they had not figured out what his position was by now, they really were fools. The engineers immediately came over to see what he was doing with the step transformer.

Both Professors Ekron and Tyler crossed over to the desk which was full of papers filled with written calculations and drawings, and began studying the work the analyst had done since they had left the previous night. They picked up paper after paper, comparing some and reading others.

"You must have been up all night to complete all of these," said Ekron.

The analyst was more than just tired; he really had been up all night. His left hand was cramping from all the writing he had done. His minders had been steadily increasing his work hours; he knew that he was being punished for the lack of results. They were trying to put pressure on him.

At thirty-two hours, he would not collapse but any longer and he knew he would start losing the kind of intense concentration required for the analysis he was doing; loss of concentration meant he would start making mistakes, and that would mean more punishment.

The guards had also started submitting him to beatings again. He knew that Sester had brought a halt to it the last time, and directed that he be given time in the healing tanks, but he had not seen the psychostrategist in several weeks. It was obvious the guards felt they could get away with it as long as Sester stayed away.

The prisoner had not once complained at the treatment, or the conditions under which he was forced to work. He knew he was not there to be treated as a human being; anything he said would only have been an excuse for them to punish him more. So he had done everything they had asked of him, despite knowing it was impossible. He wondered how long Servalan would accept this lack of progress before she took action.

"Here you finish this off," the analyst indicated to Delan, as he handed him the tool he had been using. The two engineers had been watching what he was doing with interest, "Don't let the bilateral coupling touch the ventral circuit feed until it's connected." Of the two, Delan seemed to have the more delicate touch when it came to working with his hands.

The analyst went to a chair, sat down slowly and leaned back, crossing his arms.

"Don't talk to me for a few minutes," he indicated to the two scientists who had approached him. They looked like they were about to ask him something. He closed his eyes and tried to rest.

Tyler and Ekron looked at each other; when the prisoner had first done this, they had both been puzzled, but now they accepted it.

They knew the prisoner worked long hours, they could not guess how many. He was already working when they arrived at the lab in the morning and he always continued working when they left for the day, no matter how late they stayed. When the researchers took breaks for meals and rest, the prisoner still kept working.

The only time he had any rest when they were working, was these few short minutes. They suspected that he was only allowed this by his minders because they would have gotten in trouble if he collapsed and was no longer able to work; but if he took more than a couple of these, the guards would take him away. When they returned him, he usually could barely stand and every movement appeared to cause him pain.

They had also noted that he was no longer being fed, at least not while they were working. The only thing he was given was water.

The professors quietly went about their tasks, trying not to disturb him.

After five minutes, the pressure building in the analyst's head began negating his efforts to rest. He got up slowly trying not to aggravate his injuries.

"Alright, what were you going to ask?"

They all got down to the business of designing the new phase-TD engine.

* * *

Several hours later, engineer York stood up from the augmenter model he and Delan were working on, "That's it for me, I've got plans tonight." 

That seemed to inspire a general desire for all of them to leave.

_Good_ thought Avon. His minders never allowed him to go back to his cell as long as even one member of the research group remained.

They all began packing up. Professor Ekron lingered, there was a look of puzzled concentration on his face. He started rummaging through the myriad of pages on the table until he found the ones he was looking for.

"I knew there was something wrong, it's been bothering me all day, but I haven't been able to put my finger on it until now. The logic flow diagrams you finished last night," Professor Ekron held up the page, "seem to be entirely different from the ones you did two days ago." He held up another piece of paper.

The prisoner took both pages and compared them side-by-side on the table. There was no reaction on his face but as he sat down, his shoulders slumped in weariness, "You're right, I made a mistake. I'll have to redo all the calculations I did today that were based on these. We can't test tomorrow without the new calculations. The whole transformer by-pass model and the last two simulations were built on this logic flow." This meant another ten hours. The analyst looked over at his tech minders, they were clearly not pleased. He knew they were not going to let him to rest before he corrected his error, despite already working thirty hours. He knew that his chance of making errors increased as he got closer to the limits of his endurance, but he had no choice. Without another word, he got a blank piece of paper and started re-doing the flows and calculations.

Professor Ekron had debated whether he should have revealed the error, but he had no choice. The phase energies they were working with were dangerous when combined with the time distort energies; concealing the error would have made it worse. It meant a difference of a delay of weeks rather than days.

The four members of the research group were not fools, they had all noticed the prisoner's look towards the minders, and they knew what it meant. Normally they ignored the Federation tech minders and guards who were always hovering nearby. It was an unpleasant reminder of the analyst's prisoner status, along with the restraints he always wore and the grimaces of pain he tried to hide while they were working.

Over the course of the past week, the researchers had all come to respect the analyst's intelligence and understood his value in the research they were doing, even Delan. They all felt guilty at using this nameless prisoner, but they realized that they needed him in order to achieve success.

They were all aware that the analyst was looking increasingly worn out as the weeks progressed, but they had all been warned before they were brought to the facility; treating him as a human being was definitely not acceptable.

They all stood by, unsure as to what they should do next as the prisoner worked silently.

Professor Ekron made a decision, "York, you and Delan should go. We won't need you until the calculations and redesigns are complete. Tyler," he looked towards his fellow professor who nodded in agreement, "and I will stay and help out." Unlike the first time he had worked with the prisoner, Ekron's attitude towards the prisoner had changed. Knowing now that the man was no threat to him and would only enhance his career, the professor realized he had a vested interest in protecting him.

There was no reaction from the prisoner, he continued working. The two engineers left reluctantly. With the help of the professors, the work was cut down to eight hours. They had to correct the analyst several times, but they were finally able to finish in the early hours of the morning.

Tyler stretched to ease the tension in her back, and yawned; Ekron yawned in response.

"I'm so tired I could almost crash here," Professor Tyler remarked as she packed up, "almost."

"I'll let York and Delan know to come in later," Ekron said, "I need to see the experiments for myself, don't start until we come back." By requesting this, he hoped that he was buying their analyst some time to rest.

The prisoner looked at him and nodded, it was an acknowledgement, and as close to a thanks as he would give for what they had done for him. The two professors left, tired but happy with what had been accomplished.

* * *

Avon sat waiting, his hands resting on the table in full view of the guards. The pressure was starting to build in his exhausted brain. The security observers should have turned off the trigger shortly after the two professors had left; they were late, or there was something else going on. 

"Avon." A familiar voice, he did not bother to turn around to see who had entered the room, he already knew who it was.

_Servalan_. It was the early hours of the morning. _Does the woman never sleep?_

"It has been along time."

"Not long enough," he said tiredly.

"Now now, one would think you weren't happy to see me."

The Federation President seated herself opposite him, she looked at him pleasantly. One of her special presidential guards placed a metal case on the table in front of her. Another one came up behind him, undid one of the cuffs around his wrist and re-attached it behind the chair. Avon could hear something brought in behind him, outside of his field of vision.

"Leave us and have the security monitors turned off," Servalan ordered the people in the room. She always had the monitors turned off when she interacted with Avon. Both guards and minders filed out, the door slid closed; they were alone.

"They tell me that you've been stalling."

He looked at her coldly. "How could they tell?" The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable.

"You are saying that you're not?"

"I'm sure you get regular reports."

"Don't play games, Avon."

"It's your game."

"From the reports, the professors seem to be quite impressed with you and I think the engineers are jealous."

The analyst waited.

"The researchers were not very happy that they could not bring a computer unit in."

"That's what you have me for, isn't it?"

"You underestimate yourself Avon; you are much more amusing than a computer."

"Is that what you call it? I can't give you more than I already have on this project, Servalan."

"I know."

"But you're letting them push me."

"No," she smiled," I asked them to push you, as I said, you are much more entertaining than a computer."

"I see," he said acidly.

His head was pounding; he was starting to feel dizzy. Avon leaned back in the chair, there was nothing he could do except wait. She would do what she came to do, all he could do was try to conserve what was left of his energy; with her here, he knew he would need it.

"You knew that it was impossible to complete this project without a computer," she said more as a statement than a question.

"Yes."

"Yet you still tried to do it?"

"You make it sound as if I had a choice."

Servalan did not tell him that Professor Tyler had contacted her office the previous day, making a personal appeal. Tyler had explained the impossibility of the task without access to a computer, and she had explained in great detail, of Avon's efforts to make up for the lack and the futility of it.

Servalan had not liked this turn of events; Tyler's sympathy for Avon.

_Why do they always fall for you,_ thought Servalan with a tinge of jealousy, b_ut you never pay any attention to them, do you? _

There was bound to be some degree of relationship developing between the researchers and Avon, that was unavoidable, considering how closely they worked together, but this level was a threat to security. Servalan made a mental note, mind blocks would have to be placed on the researchers after their work was done and they would all have to be watched more carefully in the meantime. All opportunities would be denied to Avon.

The tasks which she had assigned to Avon so far did not utilize his full abilities. To be the kind of tool which was most useful to her, those abilities had to be utilized; that required giving him access to a computer, it had only been a matter of time. It was something she had discussed with Sester and they both knew that before they could allow Avon access, they had to know to what level he was cooperating. They knew that they could never truly trust him and they could never allow him any quarter; pushing him on the phase engine project served as a useful test, and a reassertion of their power over him.

Avon closed his eyes; the pain and the pressure were making it difficult to concentrate.

"If you want me to keep talking, you'll have to turn it off."

"Is that a request?"

"It's whatever you want it to be," he said with a tone of resignation.

Servalan got up, crossed over to his side of the table, and stood behind him.

"It's time to rest Avon."

The pressure in his head eased but he still had a headache. He felt Servalan's hands on his shoulders, she slid one hand down gently across his chest, he was careful not to react, and he would not give her that satisfaction. Without warning, she down pressed hard with a twisting motion, he gasped in pain as she pushing down on one of his many deep bruises.

As a senior political officer assigned to Central Security, Servalan had watched many torture sessions over the years. She knew where Centre personnel preferred to strike to produce maximum pain but cause minimum damage. Tracing across the analyst's ribs, she pressed another point, Avon's jaw tightened, refusing to show pain. Slowly with her other hand, she traced gently along his back then exerted pressure on a particularly tender spot, he arched in pain and groaned involuntarily. After five minutes of painful manipulation of his injuries, she pressed one final point which caused him to double-over.

"Look at me Avon." She was now standing beside him.

He straightened himself up slowly and met her eyes, there was no expression on his face but he was perspiring.

She drew her fingers along his jaw.

"You are going to get your computer; but you knew that didn't you? You played it very well, but know this Avon, the agreements you made with me are still in effect and there will be safeguards in place in case you forget. I will be watching you." She pointed to the security cameras.

Servalan pulled his head against the back of the chair and kissed him, with surprise she felt him responding to her. Their passion threatened to break through to the surface. Servalan broke off, stepped back and looked at him. What she saw caused her to slap him, hard; the look on his face had been one of faint amusement.

Without a word, she went back to the other side of the table and opened the case, taking several objects out. Blocked by the open cover of the case, the analyst could not see what she was doing. Servalan came over beside him, unzipped his coveralls and pulled it open. She attached several remote bio-sensors pads to his chest and then turned on the monitor behind his chair. The readouts showed the steady beat of his heart, his respiration rate and graphs displaying various life signs.

Standing behind him, she pressed a bio-injector to the side of his neck and injected something into him. He felt a rush of adrenaline negating the tiredness, and then another object was pressed against his neck. Before he could register what it was, a shock of intense pain ran through his body. He cried out involuntarily. It was a familiar sensation coming from a familiar device, a pain rod. She held the activated rod against his neck until the bio-readout indicated an irregular heartbeat, then turned it off.

"You know it is not wise to antagonize me Avon," Servalan told him. She applied the rod again, this time to his bare chest, he arched in pain. He gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out.

"You mean you weren't planning to do this already?" he asked with cold sarcasm when the pain stopped. "Or do you normally bring all this equipment on the random chance that you will have a chance to use it?" In reaction to his response she immediately depressed the rod gain.

"You're right, I was, but how long depended on you," she said as he strained, pulling at the cuffs which attached his hands to the back of the chair, causing them to cut into his wrists.

"When have you ever been able to stop," he said in a stressed voice when there was a break in the pain, he was gasping for breath.

"That is very true." She increased the setting and depressed the rod again. He groaned in agony. After sixty seconds which seemed like an eternity to the suffering man, she lifted the rod and finally allowed him to catch his breath.

For the next two hours she worked on him, steadily increasing the pain level. With the monitors she could judge exactly how much he could take before he passed out. As the pain escalated to the higher end of the settings, he could no longer stop himself from screaming.


	4. Chapter 4

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Fighting Back**

Chapter Four

Almost two hours after she left the lab, Professor Tyler re-entered the building. She had almost reached home when she realized that she had forgotten her datapad. The Professor tended to be very forgetful when it came to personal things like appointments and she always felt naked without her datapad, so even though she was tired, she had returned for it.

As she got off the lift to sub-level five, she could hear a man screaming. Shocked, she looked around for the source of the sound. The corridors caused an echo effect, making it hard to identify which direction it was coming from. The screaming stopped, all was quiet again. She shook her head, perhaps she had imagined it.

Tyler proceeded down a long hallway, turned left and down another long hallway, heading towards a junction of corridors. Just as she reached the turn, a man screamed again, he sounded like he was in terrible agony. Tyler slowed, the sound was coming from the right and there was only one room down that corridor; it was the lab. Her face paled, she peered around the corner cautiously. There was a crowd of people milling around the closed doorway to the lab; it was a retinue of Centre guards along with a medtech. She also recognized a separate group who wore the distinctive black-hooded uniforms of the President's personal guard.

_That explains a lot_ she thought to herself.

Tyler had long surmised that someone at the highest levels must have been involved, in order to be able to put together this setup, where they were effectively able to use the analyst as an intellectual slave. Someone powerful and scary.

Tyler did not want to tangle with the Federation President; there were many underground stories surrounding this forbidding woman and her rise to power. The professor decided that she could do without the datapad for one night, and rushed out the way she came. There was nothing she could do, and for now it was safer not to know what happened in the lab after the researchers left.

The professor had become increasingly bothered over the past few weeks. The research team needed this man's brilliance, but not at this cost. No matter what crimes this man had committed in the past, no one deserved to be used and abused like this.

Professor Tyler had been curious at the identity of the nameless prisoner she had come to admire, but now that curiosity became a puzzle she had to solve. She was resolved to find a way to help him.

* * *

By the end Avon's wrists were raw and bleeding from his struggles. With the last application of the rod, he had slumped forward. Servalan pushed him back into the chair and checked his pupils. She knew that even with another adrenaline injection he would not be able to stand much longer, the readouts indicated as much. She had only reached level twelve in the pain settings, but his heart was beating weakly and it had taken longer for it to recover between each application of the rod. He had been pushed past his endurance even before she had started; the shots of adrenaline were the only things enabling him to stay conscious.

"Do not pass out on me Avon," she told him as she injected another shot into his neck, "I am not finished with you yet."

He opened his eyes and slowly focused on her. When she saw that she had his full attention, she said, "I am going to let you finish the phase-TD engine with a computer, but be warned, your tech minders have been authorized to employ the interrogation cycles again if they even suspect that you are using it for anything other than the phase-TD engine. Do you understand?"

"Yes," his voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

"Do you know why we are doing this now?" she indicated with the rod.

"You were bored?"

She swiftly touched the rod to his chest in warning, he flinched. Servalan smiled at his involuntary response, the rod had not been activated. She drew the instrument gently across his ribs and exerted pressure on a bruise.

"I know you Avon; you will continually test the boundaries of what you can get away with, even with our agreements."

"Would you expect anything less?"

"I would be suspicious if you didn't, but you also know that every time you do that, you will pay a price. This has been a little reminder."

"Is that all."

She touched the rod to his chest again and depressed the activator. He stiffened in pain, but before he cried out, she stopped.

"No that is never just all, not between us Avon."

Servalan called the guards and the medtech back in. The medtech immediately checked over the prisoner.

"Once you are done with the examination, have him cleaned up and returned to his cell," she told the medtech. "Give him two hours, then bring him back here, he has a lot of work to do." Avon looked at her icily.

The guards freed the prisoner from the chair and reattached the restraints in front. One of them ordered, "Get up."

Avon didn't even attempt to move, he knew he couldn't. With the torture, physically he had been pushed past the point where he was capable of standing.

The guard drew his club and prepared to strike him.

"Stop," Servalan ordered the guard, "I did not say you could hit him." She had been watching from the side as Avon was being examined.

She turned to the analyst and said, "I do apologize, the guards can be zealous at times and I think you have had enough punishment for today, don't you?" She smiled.

Avon had no reaction; he would not humour her.

Turning to the guards, she said, "I am suspending the punishment protocols for now."

"As you wish, Madame President." Two of the guards lifted Avon to his feet but found, as he had guessed, that he couldn't stand unaided. They dragged him out.

"Madame President," the medtech addressed the Federation President nervously, "the prisoner is going to need more than two hours if he's going to be of any use to you; you saw, he can't even stand."

"Very well." Servalan did not like being told she couldn't have what she wanted, but she liked incompetence even less. The medtech would not have been doing his job if he had not said anything. "Give him his normal four hours but no more."

The medtech nodded, "Understood Ma'am."

Servalan swept out with her personal guards. She had some additional instructions for the Centre personnel and the tech minders before she left.

* * *

While the analyst slept, the computer he had been promised was brought into the lab and installed. It had actually been in the facility for over two weeks, Servalan had been waiting until she was satisfied that Avon was ready.

* * *

Four hours later, Avon was brought back in the lab, as Servalan had instructed. He could stand now, just barely. A session with a pain rod always left him feeling stiff and sore all over. His wrists had been cleansed of blood but the cuts and bruises had been left untreated. The medtech had taken the liberty of giving him a stimulant before he had been taken from his cell.

He was seated before the new computer terminal, entering all of the data, calculations and simulation models the group had been working on for the past six weeks. At an adjacent table on a tandem computer terminal, was one of his tech minders; with the joined unit they were able to monitor everything he was doing.

_It's good to work with a computer again_ reflected Avon. A proper computer, which did not give attitude when answering back. He recognized the model; it was three versions advanced to the one he had used on the Matter Transmission Project for the Federation; that was before he had decided to use his talents for himself.

Servalan was sparing no expense, it was the most advanced computing machine currently available; it possessed both an oral and a positional tactile interface and was capable of sophisticated holographic projection models. Servalan may not trust him, but her greed and his carefully measured response to their game had convinced her to allow him access to this tool. The suffering had been worth it.

One of the first things he did while familiarizing himself with the capabilities and limitations of the operating system was to check the network access. There were security alarms in place but he was able to get around them easily. His tech minders finally recognized what he was doing when he had already gotten around the security overrides and was three layers deep into the security protocols, and issued a severe warning. _So you're not all completely useless_ thought Avon sarcastically.

He knew he would probably pay for it after his work session, but he also knew that this testing was expected of him. Servalan and Sester would be suspicious if he didn't. Since keeping them entertained appeared to be part of his role, he would not disappoint them. He had to stay dangerous enough to satisfy them but not so dangerous that they would stop denying him access altogether; he was walking a very fine line. He just wished it didn't have to be such a painful one, but he was never one to dwell on such things.

Of course, there had been no network or communication access, he hadn't expected any; they were anything but fools.

By the time the research team arrived in the late afternoon, he had already input half of the data and was building a detailed holographic model of the new transformer bypass unit on the table next to the computer. The four researchers immediately came over to the computer and examined it, and the projected model.

"This is amazing," York said astonished, as he examined the new computer, "I've never seen one of these outside Space Command Tactical and the Primary Research facility."

Professor Tyler connected her datapad to the computer and tested the data link with which they would all be able to download and upload information for personal use when they left the lab.

The prisoner ignored their comments and informed them, "I've already input seventy percent of the data from the last six weeks. As you can see, I've made some modifications to the transformer bypass model, it should increase its efficiency by fifteen percent and reduce the need for a more powerful flow regulator. Give me two hours and we can run some simulations."

The prisoner was manipulating the model on its axis by using a guiding pointer. They were all watching the model with fascination as he worked on it.

From the look on their faces when they entered the lab, he knew that he must have looked in rough shape, but by now they knew better than to comment on his physical condition.

Occasionally he caught Tyler looking at him strangely.

With input from the four, they continued making improvements to the model. Professor Ekron had taken over the guiding pointer while the prisoner orally instructed the computer on modifications to the calculation streams.

The simulations ran perfectly. The two engineers set about adjusting the scale prototype of the transformer to match the new configuration.

By the evening, it was time for a real test.

"I think we're ready," Ekron said. He took a final sip from the beverage he had been drinking from. They had all worked through the evening meal, except the prisoner. Again he had not been fed all day and had only been given a glass of water. It was part of his punishment for getting around the security protocols earlier. Unfortunately he had also not been fed in the previous two days due to the lack of progress.

The four researchers gathered around the step transformer; numerous instruments surrounded it, the machines would take readings and feed them directly into the analyst's computer console. The prisoner did not move from his station, he would monitor the test from the readouts. He was also so tired by this point, he doubted if he could move more than a few feet without stumbling into something, but this was not something he was about to reveal.

"Alright, Delan feed in the power slowly," Professor Tyler instructed the engineer who was stationed by the transformer.

The model lit up; there was a steady humming sound. The computer monitors began registering the data.

"How are the readings?" Tyler asked the analyst.

The prisoner replied, "All readings are at the high end of normal ranges."

"Good, record that and we'll use it as the baseline."

"Already done."

"Delan, increase it by twenty percent. How are the readings?"

There was a sudden spike in the monitor levels, the humming from the unit got louder and the light from the unit increased.

The analyst reported, "Energy output is now exceeding norms by thirty percent."

"Increase power to forty percent."

The humming continued as before but the light increased. The readouts had jumped another level.

"Norm by one hundred and seventy percent," the analyst continued reporting.

"Excellent. Now sixty percent." As before the light level increased but the humming stayed constant.

"Exceeding norms by two hundred and thirty percent."

The four researchers were barely containing their excitement.

"Increase it to eighty percent."

"Now exceeding expected norms by three hundred and twenty percent."

"Delan, how is the unit performing."

"Still stable, there are no fluctuations in the control stream."

York exclaimed, "That's incredible."

Ekron said, "One hundred percent Delan give it all you've got."

The light was now almost blinding; the humming was constant and had not increased.

"Norm by three hundred and fifty percent and holding steady," reported the analyst.

The researchers all reacted with uncontained enthusiasm, even the tech minders seemed happy.

"That's incredible."

"Amazing."

"I didn't think it was possible."

"That's absolutely amazing," Tyler exclaimed as she turned towards the prisoner at the computer console and almost hugged him, but instead settled for telling him, "You were absolutely correct, that last set of adjustments you suggested increased the high end output enormously."

The researchers tested various power inputs for the next hour and obtained more readings. It was a happy group of researchers who left at the end of the night.

* * *

Avon sat quietly after they left. The trigger had been turned off but there was no movement from the guards, they appeared to be waiting. He hoped that the success would mean that his minders would overlook his earlier transgressions and allow him some rest instead of bringing him to the interrogation unit for punishment. He was light-headed and felt even weaker than normal from the lack of food and the over-taxing of his system from the torture.

"Avon." It was Servalan's voice over the audio-speakers. "Congratulations on the success of the transformer."

_So they were waiting for you._ She must have just received the report on the progress which had been made. _Either that or you've been watching_.

"Servalan." His voice was neutral as it always was, especially when dealing with her.

"Everyone clear the room, I want to talk to the prisoner."

They all filed out but one of the tech minders removed a component from the computer before leaving.

"I understand that you achieved a significant breakthrough; Tyler and the two engineers have been trying to solve that particular problem for almost a year now. It is quite an accomplishment; you have lived up to my high regard for your abilities."

"Excuse me if I can't quite get up the enthusiasm for your triumph," he said wearily.

"I expect the same brilliance on the design of the rest of the phase-TD engine."

"You're going to be disappointed if you don't let me get some rest."

"You do look tired."

"Good of you to notice."

"You have put me in a most awkward position Avon. It has been reported to me that you bypassed the security controls earlier and tried to find out if the computer had access to the network. Is this true?"

"Would it do any good if I denied it?"

"None at all. You have given me a dilemma; you have made a significant achievement from which the Federation fleet will benefit greatly. And myself personally. But at the same time you have broken the rules and I promised that you would be severely punished for any infraction. You see my dilemma?"

"I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble."

"No trouble at all, it's my pleasure."

He waited for her decision; he doubted it would be favourable to him.

"The ease, with which you bypassed the security controls, even with someone watching you, proves how dangerous you are."

"Don't tell me you're surprised."

"Not at all, in fact I wouldn't expect anything less. But you are forcing me to be strict with you. Without control, I would have to kill you, and punishment is part of that control. Remember Avon if you die, Cally also dies."

"When have you ever needed justification for what you do Servalan. Just get on with it and stop wasting both our time."

"Such impatience, very well; you will have to spend time with the interrogators, of course, that can't be helped. But only two hours this time. I am not without mercy. And I do appreciate the work you have been doing, which is why I will also allow you four hours of rest afterwards."

"How generous. Do you also plan to have them feed me at some point?"

"Have they not been doing that? I do apologize; I will reprimand them most severely. I will leave instructions that they are to keep your energy up when you work. You see I am concerned about your needs, as I expect you to be about mine. Is there anything else?"

There was something about a nice Servalan, which made people think they should be watching their backs.

"Since you're in such a helpful mood, you do realize that I can barely walk at the moment, since I was never given enough time to recoup from your last act of generosity."

"So many demands, and what do I get in return?"

"I might hate you less?"

They both laughed.

"Dear Avon," she said fondly, "you could never hate me less."

"So true." For a brief few seconds there was lightness in the atmosphere between them.

"Very well, I will have the guards help you. They won't like it of course but that is the advantage of having power, making other people do things they don't like."


	5. Chapter 5

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Fighting Back**

Chapter Five

Avon waited in his cell. Instead of just dumping him on the sleep platform, the guards had deliberately propped him up into a sitting position before leaving. He hugged his knees, his head resting on his forearms; his body and mind were still suffering from shock, every fibre in his body remembered the pain of the last few hours.

For punishment, they had brought him to the nerve induction unit, commonly known as the Shredder. Treatment in the chamber involved direct stimulation of the entire central nervous system. It felt like each nerve fibre was being shredded slowly, hence the nickname. When the sensation was extended to the brain, the effect was devastating.

They had used it on him before, when they were first trying to extract ORAC's location from him. Most people unfortunate enough to be subjected to this particular form of torture were usually rendered incoherent for days after a full session, but it had proven ineffective in forcing information from him and only resulted in putting him out of commission for several days, until his mind recovered enough to be worked on again, so they had stopped using it on him.

It was a particularly nasty and effective form of punishment which rarely needed to be used more than once; and only on the hardest cases. At two hours, it was enough to make someone wish they were dead, the effects lingered long after the treatment ended. At this point, Avon doubted if four hours of sleep would actually bring him to a better point physically than before this latest round of torture.

_Two hours. She must have found it hard not to laugh, knowing where she was sending me_.

Before leaving the induction unit, he had been injected with a stimulant and now he waited his nerve endings still raw from the treatment.

"Avon." Her voice sounded in his cell from the audio-speakers.

"Go away Servalan," he told her without moving from his position. His voice came out in a hoarse whisper. His throat was sore, two hours of uncontrolled screaming tended to do that.

"How are you feeling?"

"Why don't you try two hours and find out for yourself."

"I am sorry it had to be this way, but you really did leave me no choice."

"It must be terrible not having a choice," he said, conveying a wealth of sarcasm in his tone.

"I am a woman of my word, you will get the four hours of sleep I promised, and I will make sure they feed you when you are working."

"You know I need more than four hours now."

"I know," she said gently.

"But you're not going to give it to me, are you?"

"No."

"Then go away and let me sleep. I will try not to collapse later, and spoil the work on your phase engine," he said with a tone of tired sarcasm.

"I will let you sleep in a few minutes but first, there are a few things we need to clarify. Lift your head Avon; I prefer seeing people's faces when I talk to them."

He raised his head slowly from his arms and leaned back against the wall. His face was pale and drawn.

"That's better."

He waited, the sense memory of the pain lingered; his whole body was tense.

"I know you Avon."

_Do you really_?

"Just as you know me. I know that you will keep your word even though we gave you no choice. It is the surprising thing about you; you are a mass of contradictions. That is one of the things which I love about you; you are motivated by personal gain, you never allow conscience to stand in your way, and you wouldn't hesitate to remove anyone who threatened your life, but once you give your word, you will keep it."

"How principled of me."

"You specialize in getting around things and I know you're planning something."

"How do I find the time," he said sarcastically.

"I can't allow that."

"Of course you can't."

"This is why you are being, and will continue to be pushed beyond your limits. We will not allow you enough energy to do anything other than what we ask, and each time you test the boundaries, the punishment will escalate. I am telling you this so that there will be no misunderstandings between us. I respect you Avon, and I want you to respect my seriousness about this."

"You're never going to let me go are you?" he asked bitterly, surprising her. Servalan knew it was a by-product of the torture, and that it was not an indication that he had given up. Time in the nerve induction unit tended to cause an extreme depressed state afterwards.

"I will not lie to you. You are too valuable and too dangerous to ever be allowed to be free again."

He sighed.

"You can make things a little easier for yourself," she proposed.

"No."

"You haven't heard what I was about to say."

"You can't have ORAC or the Deep Space Vehicle or anything concerning them."

She smiled at the man on the monitor who could not see her but who knew her so well.

"Then all our cards are on the table."

"Hurray for us. Are we done then? Can I sleep now?"

"Good night Avon."

At that moment the door slid open, a medtech came in and checked him over, then he gave the prisoner a shot to negate the stimulant and his normal sedative mix.

Avon lay down and immediately fell asleep.

* * *

Before Servalan retired for the night herself, she sent a coded signal to the Senior Controller at the Special Detention Centre that the pressure on prisoner A5428 was to continue. She also authorized the controlled use of the nerve induction unit. Servalan knew that now that Avon had access to a computer, he had become an even more valuable resource, but it also made him much more dangerous.

* * *

The next morning the researchers arrived in a good mood, still cheerful from the success of the previous day, but the tone soon turned sombre when they saw the prisoner working on the computer. He looked even more terrible than normal.

They looked at each other in puzzlement as he ignored them and continued working. Tyler had shared with the others regarding the happenings during her aborted night visit to the lab.

They did not understand. He had obviously been mistreated again, even though he had helped them achieve a breakthrough success the previous day. They had expected him to be rewarded, not punished.

They noticed that he avoided talking to them, preferring to use the holoprojectors from the computer to respond to any technical questions they asked him.

Professor Tyler directed the team, "While the rest of the data is being entered, we'll start working on the flow controller."

The prisoner turned around slowly, he pointed to the table. A detailed holo-model of the flow controller appeared. They all noticed that there was a slight tremor in the analyst's hand as he pointed.

"You anticipated my next step and did a mock-up of the model already," Tyler said appreciatively.

The professor picked up the guiding pointer and they began studying the model from various angles. Once they were satisfied, the engineers began to build the model according to the holo-projection design.

The model was only half-way completed when York turned to the analyst, with a puzzled expression on his face. "You've reversed the order of the C4 and F11 circuits," he pointed out to him.

"Yes," the prisoner confirmed, his voice was a pained whisper; they now understood why he avoided speaking to them.

"C4 and F11 are complimentary circuits, but not completely. By reversing them, we create a circuit tension at that point. It will provide some useful information in the simulation. We need to know how phase energy reacts under pressure when mixed with time distort energies in that part of the flow; this is a low-risk test."

York continued asking questions of the analyst. The engineer was always curious, and the concept of using the circuits in this way was something which had not occurred to him before.

By six o'clock, they were almost done with creating the prototype; the prisoner looked like he was ready to collapse.

Professor Ekron took up a position at the computer terminal to enter in some more calculations while the analyst shifted over to work on the holo-model with Tyler. The two engineers were working on the physical prototype, noisily; they appeared to be having some problems getting one of the circuit boards to cooperate. Lots of colourful curses could be heard.

Avon looked up from the holo-model and caught Professor Tyler staring strangely at him again. This time she continued staring at him. "Is something wrong?" he asked her. She was about to respond when she noticed one of the minders looking over at them suspiciously.

"Nothing, I was just thinking about the containment field for the phase energy." Tyler told him, hoping it sounded convincing. "Didn't realize I was staring."

Tyler wanted to kick herself for nearly making a mistake; she was finding herself increasingly drawn to this man. The quickness of his mind, and his leaps of logic constantly left them frantically trying to keep up. There was great beauty in his logic; if one could describe cold equations and patterns in that way. Her partner, Professor Ekron was a jealous man by nature, but in the face of such genius, even he had to admit admiration and respect.

_No wonder they have gone to such great lengths to keep you_ she thought as she continued working on the model; this time being careful not to draw anymore undue attention which would cause the analyst problems.

By the time the group was ready to test the new flow controller, it was already late into the night. The new design configuration performed beyond their expectations. Again it had been the prisoner's input which had made the difference between the good and the exceptional.

* * *

Vila yawned. He had his legs up on the couch in the command conference area of the _Justice_; it was his turn to monitor things on the flight deck. The screen was showing a spectacular light show caused by the energy discharges from the asteroid belt they were hiding in but after four days, Vila was no longer interested in the show. He poured himself another drink.

"Here's to you Avon, I hope things are more interesting where you are," Vila raised his glass in a toast, he was slightly tipsy.

_Although, you're probably in hell_ he thought. It was odd that in a Federation where all traces of religion had been wiped out, there was still a concept of hell.

Jenna came down the steps onto the flight deck.

"Vila, anything interesting?" she asked him as she went to her flight station and began doing a system check.

"Lots of absolutely nothing."

"Don't let Argus catch you drinking while you're on duty."

"I know he's your friend Jenna, but I bought myself a delta grade to avoid military service, I'm not about to join anyone else's army."

"You haven't joined anyone's army Vila but we all need to be on our guard these days. We don't want to fall into the Federation's hands again, do you?"

"Don't remind me," Vila said with a shudder. "But whose fault is it that I'm getting chased all over the bloody galaxy again? I had a nice setup on Commerce City, some good old fashioned burglary and a bit of honest pick-pocketing. Life was good."

"You knew that it wasn't going to last Vila, it was only a matter of time before the Federation picked up your trail again, there's still a price on all our heads."

"Well I could enjoy it as long as I could, couldn't I? And if there's one thing I'm good at, that's running away. They wouldn't have found me and if they did, there's no prison cell can hold me, once I set my mind to it."

"Then why were you on the London?" she asked him. Jenna had first met Vila in the holding cells on Earth while they were waiting to be transported on the prison transport ship, the London. If it had not been for Blake's determination and leadership and Avon's skills, they would have all spent the rest of their days on a miserable penal planet.

"That's a low blow," said Vila.

"You're fate was set the moment you threw in your lot with Blake. You can't escape it Vila, none of us can."

"Well this fate, likes a drink now and then," said Vila, lifting his glass and taking another drink.

"Just be careful. Argus doesn't like it when someone endangers other people's lives. He's ex-Federation military and he tends to be very strict about duty."

"Well, who appointed him Blake?"

Argus had naturally assumed command on the _Justice_, there had been no discussion or any formal decision. They had all just accepted it; the only one who had any contentions with his leadership was Avon, although Avon tended to conflict with anyone who tried to assume leadership over him, but now Avon was gone.

"He's not trying to replace Blake, Vila," Jenna defended Argus. Working on and off with Argus's group over the past few years, Jenna had come to admire the man and his leadership capabilities. He had been able to handle the difficult ex-military rebel groups when no one else could. Everyone respected him; many people owed him their lives. Unfortunately, being a successful ex-military commander, he also tended to come across a lot more forcefully than some people would have found comfortable. His directness could be disconcerting, even Jenna had found that at times.

"You don't have to defend me Jenna," Argus told her. He had been listening at the stairs leading down to the flight deck. He had kept silent, not wanting to intrude on their conversation. "If you have a problem with my leadership Vila, talk to me," Argus said as he came down the steps and stood beside Jenna.

"I never said I had a problem with it," Vila said. He put down his glass of green alcohol. He never liked direct confrontations and despite his protests to Jenna, he knew that she was right.

"That's good to hear," Argus said. "Anything to report?" Argus was there for the next shift.

"Nothing to report. I'll go get some rest," Vila said, with an exaggerated yawn.

After Vila left the flight deck, Jenna said, "I think he's afraid of you."

Argus grinned. "That might not be a bad thing; you did say he can be somewhat unreliable."

"Argus, Vila's not one of your military-types, you have to be more careful with him. He's an invaluable resource. Good thieves are hard to find, even Avon recognized that."

"Avon? That's hard to believe, considering they always seemed to be insulting each other."

"It's complicated."

"Sounds like a lot of things were complicated on the Liberator."

"No more than on this ship."

_Strange that we all talk about Avon as if he were still here_. Argus reflected. He crossed over to ORAC's normal place on a table in the command area. Activating the transmitter which was sitting on top of the computer unit, he spoke the command code and then asked, "ORAC, do you have the information I requested on the Federation Banking System's security setup?

"What you requested is possible. I have only been able to obtain information on the first two levels of security protocols but for your purposes, it will be sufficient."

"Good, what do we need?"

* * *

"We're going to have to deal with how to manage the phase particle stream if the dimensional aspect of the time distort energies do cause a blow-back affect in the core," said Professor Ekron as he and his fellow professor were watching the prisoner make another adjustment to the calculation stream.

Dimensional phasing was one of the key theories Professor Tyler had developed which enabled the kind of engine they were building. The core was the most important component of the engine and the most complex.

Without warning, the holo-model of the core they were working on shifted to the side of the table and another strangely-gridded object appeared. The object was rotating slowly, actively changing shape and appeared to be making small phase jumps.

_This is interesting_, thought Tyler. It looked very familiar, and not familiar, at the same time.

The two professors watched with great interest as the prisoner began entering calculations and touching the new object with the guiding pointer, each touch caused the object to change shape and do a phase jump.

"Ahhh," exclaimed Tyler. "I recognize this; it's very similar to a comp-puzzle."

The analyst nodded and looked at her with interest. This kind of computational puzzle game was a favourite of computer analysis types, and particularly hackers. It was a game of philosophical probabilities. It was a useful way to introduce faults and explore their potential in providing solutions to complex problems; an aspect which facilitated the breaking of security systems.

"But there are aspects of it I'm completely unfamiliar with," she noted.

Using the guiding pointer, the prisoner began drawing links between the puzzle and the holo-model. He turned back to the computer terminal and began entering commands. The monitor display split into two interconnected panels of streaming calculations and data.

"I see, it's an extra-dimensional puzzle," Tyler said as she realized what it was. "The extra dimension represents the dimensional aspects of the time distort?"

_Very quick_, Avon thought; he nodded. He held her eyes briefly, it was the only indication he gave of his appreciation of her ability to recognize what he was doing.

"So we're going to shape the blow-back effect using the puzzle as the control?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Do you mind if I provide the dynamic variables while you control the stream?"

"No."

Tyler seated herself in front of the computer.

"Ready?" she asked.

For the next few hours, they played with the puzzle.

Tyler threw every variation of the blow-back error she could think of at the analyst and watched with fascination as he dynamically developed the calculation stream and the model to deal with each one. It was as close to a personal interaction any of them had with the prisoner up to that point. As the game progressed, Tyler realized she was enjoying herself greatly. Having a worthy opponent raised the level of one's own game.

After she fed in the final variant, Tyler said, "That was fun, but how does this help us?"

Without looking at her, the analyst broke the links between the model and the puzzle. He started inputting various calculations and coordinates, the puzzle reacted to each input. Gradually a coherent calculation model developed, the puzzle stopped phase jumping and became stationary, rotating and shifting slowly in four dimensions. The analyst then relinked it to the core model.

"Now feed in the variations," the analyst told her. He stepped back, away from the table, and then looked at her expectantly.

For a moment, Tyler was confused, and then she did as directed. As she began feeding in each variation again, the confusion turned to awe as the new calculation model absorbed everything which was thrown at it and magnified the output stream greatly, all without interfering with the phase particle stream. Behind her, Professor Ekron, who had been silently watching the game with interest, gasped and exclaimed, "Amazing!"

Tyler looked at the analyst; he gave her a brief grin and nodded.

* * *

The phase-TD engine prototype was progressing quickly with the aid of the computer. They had achieved more in the six weeks with the computer than in the previous three months without it. Soon they would be able to start work on a full scale model.

Tyler and Ekron were directing the two engineers bent over the model while the prisoner tested a new adjustment to the data stream.

York was arguing with the two professors, which was something he rarely did, but when he felt strongly about something, there was no stopping him.

"Look professors, from the new model of the phase core…" York was still trying to get his point across when all of a sudden the tech minder stationed at the tandem terminal said harshly to the prisoner, "What are you doing?" At the challenge the prisoner immediately put his hands up and backed away from the computer he had been working on.

The four researchers immediately stopped working and looked over. Though the analyst's face was expressionless as usual, the researchers knew him well enough by now to see that he was annoyed.

"What was that last bit you input? I thought you had finished with that part already?" the tech minder at the tandem terminal said.

"I am trying a slightly different configuration."

"There's an entire new subroutine."

"How clever of you to notice, considering I put in that subroutine two hours ago and I'm just using it now." The prisoner spoke in a flat tone but his words clearly indicated his disdain towards the minder. "Even if I explain it to you, you wouldn't understand."

"I suggest you try, you know what will happen if you can't."

The prisoner looked at him coldly; he always had great contempt for ignorant bullies. These guardians of Federation interests had no idea that the new subroutine they had spotted had not been the only one. The analyst was already putting together pieces of a program, hidden within the phase engine design programming which would facilitate his eventual escape.

"When has that ever made a difference?" He knew he was in for a bad time, regardless of what he did now. This always happened at least once per session now and it always served as an excuse to send him to the Shredder after the work session.


	6. Chapter 6

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Fighting Back**

Chapter Six

"Haven't you always wanted a challenge worthy of your skills Vila?" asked Argus.

The crew was gathered in the command conference area on the bridge discussing Argus's plan to infiltrate Federation Banking in order to set up one of the distractions.

"Challenges that come attached to Federation AA level buildings aren't that appealing to me," replied Vila. "I thought the whole idea is to set up distractions, not get ourselves killed. In my reckoning breaking into the Federation Banking system definitely qualifies in the 'getting ourselves killed' category."

"Avon was able to do it," said Argus.

"Well, if you haven't noticed, Avon isn't here," Vila said.

"Vila!" Jenna exclaimed.

"Sorry Cally, I didn't mean to bring it up," Vila turned to Cally in apology.

"It's alright, Vila," Cally told the rebel leader. "Argus, you must have some reason to believe that we can do this."

"Yes, ORAC has come up with a way to bypass the first two levels of security of the Federation Banking System and I've been in contact with Ture to recruit some of his hacker friends to help with the distraction part."

"What is the purpose of only bypassing the first two levels of security?" asked Jenna. "The Federation Banking System must have multiple redundant systems. It doesn't seem to be worth the effort, we still wouldn't be able to do anything."

"The idea is not to break into the system, but to provide distractions," explained Argus.

"I still don't understand," Jenna said.

"Breaking into the first two levels doesn't take as much effort or time as breaking into the system far enough to affect financial transactions. It is not serious enough that they would overhaul their entire system in order to protect against it, at least not yet; but it is just annoying enough that they will try to track it down and stop it. Ture's hacker contacts will begin to break into these two security levels at staggered times and from different access points throughout the Federated Worlds. After awhile it will seem like a conspiracy; that should attract the attention of Central Security eventually and keep them busy."

"That's very twisted," Vila told Argus. "I didn't think you were capable of that, I must remember to watch my back."

"Actually it wasn't my idea," said Argus. "As you said, I am unfamiliar with that level of deviousness; one of my many faults. We have our two tech mercenary friends to thank for this idea. They are going to use some of Avon's original tactics when he first broke into the Federation Banking System."

_That's fitting_ thought Cally. _In a way, it will be like having him with us._

"Alright, let's get back to the part where we try not getting me killed," Vila reminded them.

"Unfortunately, the method ORAC has devised involves gaining access to the LC crystal which is used to code financial records and transactions. From the time you broke into Q-base on Fosforon with Avon, we know that the Federation always has two TP crystals onsite, in case one malfunctions. They do something similar with the LC crystals."

Vila said, "Last time we had one of Avon's friends helping us. Well, actually, not helping us since he ended up trying to kill us, which is exactly what one of Avon's friends would do, but…where was I. Oh yes, the point is, we had inside help then, even if the help did try to shoot us."

"You must be growing on me Vila, I actually followed that logic," said Argus.

"Stop trying to flatter me and tell me how you're going to not get me killed," Vila said.

"I take it you're going to help then," asked Argus.

"Well, within reason," Vila replied, "and as long as that reason doesn't involve getting me killed."

"The crystal will be kept in the sensitive stores storage area, which will be guarded by Federation Security personnel. I can do a passable imitation of a security officer," Argus said. "All we need to do is obtain the correct uniforms and have ORAC issue fake orders to have me, Allren and Ture sent as replacements to the facility. Once we get in and are able to arrange for two of us to be on guard at the same time at the sensitive stores area, then you can teleport in with the equipment. Allren and Ture can handle the computer overrides to the system and take care of the security cameras. Do you think you can handle the lock Vila; do the same thing you did on Biliar, break in and leave no trace that it has been broken into?"

"It's tricky, it's no double-locking, laser-secured wall safe anymore, they have a top of the line Ventnor, and it's a high-security computer-coded access lock. It's virtually impossible to get into."

"Vila, I do believe your colours are showing. How is it that you know exactly what kind of lock they have at the Federation Banking facility? Could it be that you've considered breaking into there before?" Jenna asked him.

"Purely as an educational exercise; your area is smuggling, mine is locks. I know everything about them and how to break into them, including the highest-level ones. I could never figure out a way to get pass the computer security though but if our mercenary friends can get through the computer-coded part and you can get me safely into the facility, then I can break into the lock."

"Then we have a plan," Argus said.

"I don't believe I'm saying this, but once the fake orders have been arranged, I need some time with ORAC. I have to find out if they have upgraded the version of the lock and get a blue-print of it if they have."

"Argus," Jenna spoke up, "if this operation doesn't need me or Cally, then I have an idea for another distraction. ORAC can handle the teleport for you. Can you drop us off at Gelentrix? There are friends from my old smuggler days I want to contact, they owe me some favours. I want them to repay a 'favour' of another kind to the Amagons."

"That's the group that tried to sell you and the Liberator crew to the Federation?"

"One and the same."

"Alright. Let's set up some rendezvous protocols then."

* * *

"I never thought I would be back in a Federation uniform again," said Tam Allren to his tech friend Ture as he adjusted the regulation black trooper's helmet which provided a menacing anonymity to all of the Federation's military forces.

"Well, at least you're a sergeant," said Ture, he was pulling at the leather cross strap which ran diagonally from his right shoulder and across his chest to his belt.

Allren smiled, he knew his friend could not see his expression inside the helmet.

They were all in the teleport room of the _Justice_, preparing to go down to the Federation Banking complex on Elarus. Vila was entering the teleport coordinates, as ORAC sat on the panel next to him.

"Are you two ready?" asked Argus as he snapped on a teleport bracelet. He was wearing an officer's uniform; the insignia identified him as a captain in the Federation security forces.

"Ready," replied Allren. The two techs mercenaries stepped onto the teleport platform, Argus joined them.

"Vila, keep alert. We don't know how long it will take to set up the right conditions, but you need to be ready when you receive the burst signal," reminded Argus. "ORAC, you will maintain active monitoring for the signal."

"Of course," replied the computer indignantly. "I am not a fallible human who needs to be given instructions twice."

"Alright ORAC; command code is released," Argus told the computer. "It's all yours Vila, have fun."

"Thanks loads," said Vila.

"I wonder if Avon ever considered reprogramming ORAC," Ture told Allren. "Make it more user-friendly."

Argus smiled at this comment and said, "Put us down Vila."

* * *

Several hours later, Argus was in the office of the Security Commander. Allren and Ture had already reported in and had been assigned to one of the security teams at the complex.

"Captain Serle Carver reporting for duty sir." Argus stood at attention before the security commander. The rebel leader tried to remember to act like a subordinate officer; it was harder than he thought it would be. After having been a Land Commander for over six years and a major rebel leader for the past four, the habit of command was hard to break.

"It says here that you served with Sixth Legion," said Security Commander Foren.

"That's right sir." The Fifth, Sixth and Ninth Legions had been virtually been wiped out in the Intergalactic War with the Andromedans. Most of Sixth Legion survivors had been re-assigned to other units.

"You're lucky that you weren't part of Fifth Legion, Captain."

"I don't understand sir."

"They were arrogant, undisciplined and practiced a cruelty only surpassed by the Death Squads; they were a disgrace to Space Command," Foren told him. The Security Commander also had a personal dislike, bordering on hatred for the Colonel Astrid of Fifth Legion but he did not attribute this to his extreme dislike for anyone from the former legion.

"Yes sir."

"You don't agree?"

"It's not my place to agree or disagree sir." Argus had always had a great disagreement with those in Space Command who always followed orders without conscience but that attitude would not be useful now.

"That's right, it's not your place, but I do not allow such disruptive behaviour under my command, is that understood?"

"Very clear sir." Argus already knew he was not going to like this commander but he needed the man's goodwill in order to have influence over the duty roster.

"Report to the duty officer after you get settled in and welcome to the Complex, Captain."

"Thank you sir."

* * *

Avon sat in his cell waiting for the medtech. That appeared to be his routine now: working, waiting, torture and being used to entertain Servalan and Sester; although Sester had not been around for over a month. There wasn't much challenge now for the psychostrategist since the analyst seemed to be doing what they wanted.

The analyst's chest hurt, he was aware that his heart was becoming increasingly strained. He had been regularly subjected to the Shredder over the past month. The tech minders didn't hesitate using it whenever they felt he was doing something they didn't understand, which appeared to be often. They used it like a new toy they were not yet tired of. He was not a man who gave into emotion but it was becoming progressively more difficult to fight the depression which always followed the sessions in the nerve induction chamber. Because of this, he was barely able to keep up the level of his work, but he had to. For there to be a chance later, he had to.

* * *

Cally regained consciousness first. Shaking off the effects of the knock-out gas, she tried to make out details in the dim light which originated from a narrow window behind her. She noticed Jenna beside her; they were both chained side-by-side by the wrists to a wall. The chain was long enough for them to be seated with their arms hanging above them, someone had thoughtfully leaned them against the wall. Cally pulled hard on the chains but they were secured to metal hoops firmly affixed to the wall.

She looked around in the dim light, they appeared to be in some kind of storage room containing non-descript metal boxes piled high against the side wall, out of her reach. There did not appear to be any camera monitors visible, but that did not mean that there were no hidden ones. In the middle of the far wall was a sliding door with a panel lock; it was the only access into the storage room.

"Jenna," Cally called, trying to wake her still-sleeping companion.

"Where are we?" the woman asked groggily.

"I was just about to ask you that," Cally told her. "Is this part of your plan to contact your smuggler friends?"

They had both been dropped off on Gelentrix and had made initial contact with a go-between who directed them to a pawn shop in the Old District. That was the last thing both of them remembered.

"They do tend to be very paranoid, but not this paranoid."

"I suppose we're lucky that they aren't the shoot first, and ask questions later kind."

"Yes, but this is a bit awkward," Jenna said testing the chains by pulling on them.

"I already tried that."

Jenna stopped. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just a few minutes before you woke up."

"Have you heard anything to indicate who has us or where we are?"

"Nothing. Do you think the go-between betrayed us Jenna?"

"I don't know. I've used him before to arrange contacts and even though he's a slimy unprincipled snake, he would never risk antagonizing customers, especially not repeat ones; though if someone offered him a high enough price, he would probably do anything."

"He sounds like an unsavoury character," Cally remarked.

"Welcome to the smugglers' world," said Jenna. "I was part of that world for many years before I joined Blake."

"You don't seem like that," Cally told the ex-smuggler.

"You don't know much about me then," Jenna told her. For some reason on board the Liberator, the two women had never developed that close a relationship. Jenna had to admit that part of it was her fault. Telepathy made her nervous and even though Cally had told them that the ability only worked between Aurons, Jenna had preferred to keep her distance.

Now they were both trapped here together, chained to a wall, their mutual futures a question mark.

* * *

"What do you suppose they want with us," Cally asked Jenna.

They were talking in the dark. It was night outside and there was no longer any light coming in from the narrow window above them. There was still no indication of who was holding them prisoner. Repeated shouts from the two women had resulted in no response at all. They realized the only thing they could do was wait until their captors showed themselves.

"That would depend on who is holding us," replied Jenna.

"I assume they want us alive otherwise we would be dead already," said Cally.

"Let's hope they want us alive enough that someone will at least come and feed us eventually. I'm sorry that I dragged you into this."

"We still don't know what 'this' is," Cally responded. "On Auron we have a saying, 'There is hope in uncertainty'."

"Either you don't have any pessimists on Auron, or you all live very sheltered lives."

At the lack of response from her companion, Jenna asked, "What's wrong Cally?"

"They're all dead." Cally's voice was barely audible.

"Who?"

"My people."

"What?!" Jenna was shocked.

"Servalan released a virus which wiped out everyone on my planet."

"I'm really sorry Cally, I didn't know. How is it that there was nothing about this on the news channels?"

"With all the chaos after Star One, the destruction of one neutral planet to 'natural causes' wasn't considered very newsworthy," Cally said bitterly.

"But surely news must have gotten out."

"Servalan had it all planned from the beginning. Auron was completely cut off but we didn't know it at the time. All calls for help were intercepted by the Federation and they came to offer help, as only the Federation can, although at the time we didn't know it was them."

"How did you find out then?"

"We were on our way to Earth but I had a telepathic communication from my twin that Auron was in trouble."

"You have a twin?"

"Several, but not anymore," she said sadly.

"I'm sorry."

"There is another saying, 'As long as there is one Auron alive, the enemy should run.'"

"That doesn't sound like an Auron saying," said Jenna.

"It's a saying from this Auron," Cally said with an uncharacteristic harshness in her tone.

* * *

At the end of the next day, as Cally and Jenna were trying to sleep in their uncomfortable positions, the door slid open and bright lights flooded the storage room. They both blinked as their eyes tried to adjust to the light.

Three men entered the cell.

"Lantro," exclaimed Jenna. "I was looking for you."

"Hello Jenna, the Rat told me." Lantro Nim was a ruthless old smuggler and a long-time acquaintance of Jenna's. He wore a green outfit consisting of dark baggy pants and a dark green short jacket over a light green shirt. At his waist was holstered a heavy pistol. He had greying hair and a deceptively kindly face which belonged more on a pleasant uncle than the ruthless smuggler that he was. Around his neck was a chain holding a single charm of a small bird.

Behind him were what appeared to be twins clad in dark grey jumpsuits with black trim, each was holding similar heavy pistols, pointed at the two women. For a moment both women thought they were experiencing double vision.

"And this is your idea of hospitality?" Jenna asked.

"Sorry about this Jenna, but it's just business," said Lantro. "It's not personal."

"I'll try to remember that next time I not-so-personally shoot you," Jenna told him.

"Is this the contact we came to meet?" Cally asked Jenna.

"Unfortunately, yes," Jenna told her.

"The commission was only to deliver you," Lantro told Jenna. "Unfortunately, your friend was at the wrong place and at the wrong time."

"Whose commission?" Jenna asked.

"You'll find out when we reach our destination," replied Lantro.

"If you only want me, then let my friend go," said Jenna.

"No Jenna," said Cally. "We're in this together."

"I'm afraid it's not up to either one of you," said Lantro. "The only options were either to kill her, or deliver you both and let the utiliser decide what to do with her. I can't run the risk that your friend would make trouble. Because it's you, I decided to leave her alive."

"How generous," Jenna remarked.

"I have my moments," Lantro said, not phased by her sarcasm.

Lantro nodded to the smuggler guards behind him.

The twins approached the two women, one snapped a collar around Cally's neck, the other snapped a set of tight bracelets around Jenna's wrists; and then the women were released from the chains. Both women thought to resist but having their arms chained in the position they had been in for almost two days, they barely had feeling in their arms anymore. Each of the smugglers also clamped a set of restraints on them, securing them with their hands in front.

"You may be familiar with the detonation collars Jenna, but not the new detonation wrist bracelets."

Both women remembered very well the detonation collars used by the Amagons who had taken over the Liberator. The devices had explosives embedded into the collar and an explosion could be set off either manually using a control unit, or if anyone tried to remove the collar. They had been lucky to have Vila with them then. He had been able to deactivate and remove the collars. Unfortunately, Vila was off with Argus and the two mercenaries.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of two women," asked Jenna mockingly.

"Afraid? No, but I do respect your ability to make trouble Jenna," said Lantro. "I have the detonation control here." Lantro indicated the unit he was wearing on his wrist. "Each of the guards also has a control unit. If either of you try to escape or cause trouble, the devices will explode. Cally will die and you will live, although you will be missing a few vital parts. The utiliser only said to deliver you alive; the condition will be up to you."

The guards helped the two women to their feet.

"Let's try to make this pleasant, we have a long journey ahead of us," said Lantro.

Several hours later, the Jenna, Cally, Lantro and a crew of smugglers were aboard an old converted space cruiser, headed to some destination still unknown to the two women.


	7. Chapter 7

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Fighting Back**

Chapter Seven

"I never really needed a reminder how much I hated guard duty," said Ture to his companion as they stood guard outside one of the Banking Complex's security vaults.

"That's one of the reasons why I went tech," said Allren.

"I thought you said it was to impress the girls," said Ture jokingly.

"Well, that too," said Allren. There was a bit of truth in it. Allren's girlfriend at the time had dumped him because she had wanted someone with better prospects.

At that moment an officer rounded the corner, the two straightened themselves and tried to look dutifully guard-like.

"Well what do we have here?"

They both recognized Argus's voice from beneath the all-encompassing Federation soldier's helmet.

"You know, next time you have one of these jobs for us, I think I'm going to insist that you at least make me a lieutenant," Allren told Argus.

"What do you mean next time," said Ture. He really hated being in a Federation uniform again, even if it wasn't for real.

Argus grinned underneath his helmet. "Nod and try to look professional for the security cameras."

"Don't push it 'Captain Carver'," said Allren.

As Argus was talking to them, posture-wise, he appeared to be giving them orders. He didn't tell them that they should consider themselves lucky that they were only standing guard duty, and weren't required to listen to the Security Commander's speeches daily. For some reason, Foren appeared to have taken a liking to the new Captain and called him to his office at the end of each day for a drink and to discuss his frustrated ambitions at being frequently passed over for promotions. Argus would have preferred being tortured by the Federation interrogators again, but at least it had put him in a position to influence the duty roster.

"I've arranged to have you both tasked to guard the sensitive stores vault where the crystal is held, on your next duty cycle. Have you had an opportunity to study the security setup?" asked Argus.

"Yeah, it shouldn't be a problem to loop the cameras and bypass the computer security protocols, once we get our tools," said Allren. "We'll do the setup first and then you can have Vila come down with the kits the next day."

"Alright. Try not getting yourself into trouble before then."

* * *

When Argus returned to his room in the officer's quarters, he sent a short burst signal to tell Vila to get ready in five days time.

* * *

"Why do you suppose he did it?" Vila asked ORAC. He was drunk and sprawled on a couch in the command conference centre, addressing ORAC which for some reason was sitting on the ground. Vila had his feet propped up on the computer's clear case. 

"Who is the 'he' you are referring to? And what is the 'it'?" asked ORAC impatiently.

After two weeks of drinking and boredom, Vila still did not understand why Avon did what he did when he went to rescue Cally on Terrus. Vila could not get it out of his head. He could not resolve the Avon who had almost sacrificed Vila in order to save himself, with the one who saved Cally at the cost of his own life.

_Even when you're dead, you still give me a headache Avon_. Vila took another swig of the bottle he was drinking from.

"I am receiving a burst signal from Argus," ORAC reported.

"What does it say?"

"Message says to be ready in five days; it also contains teleport coordinates and a time sequence. I have also been instructed to enact protocol seventeen."

"What in the galaxy is protocol seventeen?" asked Vila. "And why does it need to be enacted?"

"I am to activate the coded security locks on all of the alcohol dispensers." These were computer coded sequences controlling the dispensers and not actual locks which Vila could open. The only one who could have broken or bypassed the locks was Avon.

"Who does he think he is? How am I supposed to get ready now?" Vila was angry.

"I do not understand the question. How does activating the security locks on the alcohol dispensers interfere with operational readiness?" asked ORAC.

"Wait a minute; I am the command code source now, right?" Vila's eyes brightened, he had an idea.

"Correct."

"Then I the command code source, command you to remove the security code locks on all of the alcohol dispensers," Vila said confidently.

"I cannot do that without the required authorization code."

"What authorization code?" asked Vila indignantly.

"Argus has put an authorization code on the release of the security locks for the alcohol dispensers." ORAC informed him.

"But I'm the command source," Vila protested vehemently.

"The command source still requires the authorization code to release the locks."

"That's just not fair," said Vila.

ORAC remained silent. Vila thought he was seeing things but the moving lights which were part of the ORAC unit seemed to convey smugness.

"ORAC, I've decided not to go down to Elarus, not unless you release the locks."

ORAC did not respond it had no interest in the petty interactions between humans.

"ORAC?"

* * *

"Avon." It was Servalan again over the audio-speakers. 

Avon was lying on his back in his cell, staring at the ceiling. He was waiting for his injections again but these days he was so exhausted that he usually fell asleep before the medtech arrived.

"I know you're not asleep yet, I can see you on my monitor."

He looked up at the security camera trained directly on the sleep platform.

"What do you want Servalan? Couldn't you sleep without torturing me first?"

"Now be nice Avon. I just wanted to congratulate you on the success of the phase-TD engine. I understand you have a working model now."

"Thank you," he said, without the least bit of sincerely, "Can I sleep now?"

"That's all you ever seem to say to me these days."

He sighed tiredly. "What do you want to talk about?" She was never going to leave him alone until she was satisfied.

_He's never asked that before_ thought Servalan. Avon never initiated conversation in these sessions; his participation had always been involuntary.

For an hour she kept him talking.

"I should let you sleep now, you have an excellent mind Avon, and with the work you are doing for me, you are helping me forge a massive personal financial empire."

"How very lucrative for you," he said flatly.

"I am a student of history, I know that all things eventually come to an end, even I must accept the inevitable."

"Surely not. What is this then? Planning for retirement?"

"I may have to accept the inevitable but no one said that the inevitable couldn't come with some perks. I am Servalan after all."

"Of course," he said chuckling.

She smiled as well; it was good to see him in a lighter mood, no matter how brief. Servalan had been concerned, she had been afraid that the use of the induction chamber was wearing the analyst down more than she had planned. One of the purposes of forcing him to converse with her tonight had been to assess the degree of depression.

"Are you done gloating now? Can I get some rest?"

"Yes you may rest now."

She sent the signal to the Centre that the medtech could give him the sedatives. "Good night Avon."

* * *

Servalan was thoughtful as she turned off the vidscreen. She was in her bedroom in Residence One preparing to retire for the evening. Picking up a brush, she began brushing her hair. 

Sester would be returning from Sector Ten in a couple of weeks. Things had worked out very well there, the warlord territories were currently embroiled in a nice little civil war; well not exactly little but she wasn't about to let it get any bigger. The Federation's plans were progressing right on schedule; there was nothing to stop it now. She had recalled the psychostrategist because she needed someone to keep an eye on Avon.

It was clear the tech minders were not capable of handling the asset. In their zealousness and lack of understanding of what he was doing, they had abused the use of the nerve induction machine. They were punishing him for the brilliance he needed to exercise in order to meet her requirement of him.

So far the harsh treatment did appear to have affected his work, he was carrying on despite what they were doing to him; but he was still human, eventually it would. Tonight had been an indication, he had been more resigned tonight than she would have liked. A depressed Avon tended not to be as much fun, for some reason, that was important to her.

The abuse had to stop but not until Sester returned and had an opportunity to assess the situation.

* * *

Lantro's kindly face was in keeping with his pleasant manner when he had the two women join him for the evening meal each day aboard the smuggler's cruiser. This by no means meant that he could be persuaded from his commission of delivering them to the utiliser who had hired him. He made that very clear from the outset; any questions or discussions regarding the commission or releasing them were forbidden topics. As long as Jenna and Cally respected his rules, he was an impeccable host. 

Other than commands from the guards, no one spoke to them except Lantro and he was too careful to reveal anything to them which would give them any information as to the identity of the utiliser or their final destination; but he was a knowledgeable man who could hold conversations on a myriad of topics. Even though he had a pleasant manner, the two women were aware that there was always a hard edge just beneath the surface, and at times Cally could sense a great emptiness. When he spoke of the Federation, that hardness became hatred.

When they conversed, at times it was easy to pretend that they were not prisoners and he was their jailor.

The two women were kept in a large comfortable cabin aboard the ship. Other than two beds, a table, two chairs and a vidscreen entertainment unit, it was totally devoid of furniture. In the adjacent alcove to their cabin-prison were shower and toilet facilities. There were security cameras inside the cabin and the single door provided a transparent view into the cabin from the corridor side. They soon found out there was no opportunity to escape.

The two women were fed three times a day, with their evening meal shared with Lantro. Whenever they left the cabin, they were always accompanied by three guards, each of whom had control units to the detonator devices the women wore. Their guards were hard smuggler-types, who expected instant obedience to any command.

When their meals were delivered, the women were expected to immediately stand against the far wall, their hands in plain view. Any deviance from these instructions would mean that they would not be fed.

The women's days were passed in pleasant and increasingly frustrating boredom. Cally started a program of daily exercises to keep up her strength and endurance, as well as regular hours for meditation. Jenna spent her days exploring the entertainment unit provided.

* * *

"If something doesn't happen soon," said Jenna to no one in particular, "I'm going to go crazy." After leading an active life of a rebel for many years, she was more used to action than sitting around waiting for something to happen. The entertainment unit was starting to bore her and Cally's constant energetic activity was becoming annoying. 

Cally was doing her daily exercise routine, which currently involved some kind of stretching which looked painful to Jenna.

"We have to be patient, our time will come," said Cally. "We have to keep ourselves sharp so that we will be ready."

"More of 'There is hope in uncertainty'?" asked Jenna sarcastically.

"It is applicable in this case, and we don't have anything else at the moment."

"I don't know if you're being overly optimistic or overly pessimistic," said Jenna, "or if you're just trying to be funny."

"Just being an alien," said Cally.

Jenna laughed, "Alright. Well, while you were keeping yourself sharp, I had an idea."

"Something to help us escape?"

"Not exactly."

Jenna told the woman her plans.

* * *

The research group had been noticing the steadily deteriorating condition of the analyst with concern. They noticed that whenever they returned to the lab in the morning, the prisoner seemed to be in worse shape than when they left him the previous night. 

His hands were shaking constantly now and he was no longer able to work on the prototype himself; he had to rely entirely on the engineers.

The analyst was in such bad shape that he no longer had the ability to sustain the concentration he required for more than an hour at a time; this gave his minders even more of an excuse to abuse him. They constantly denied him food and rest as punishment, and they often took him out of the room now for beatings. The researchers had tried to protect him at first but their efforts only seemed to make it worse so they had stopped.

"Have you worked out the new numbers for the transformer for the large-scale model?" Tyler asked as she put in an entry into her datapad. She looked up at the analyst for a visual response, he rarely spoke now.

The look on his face alarmed her, he had turned deathly pale. His eyes were staring ahead, not seeing, his hands gripped the arms of the chair.

"Are you alright?" she asked worriedly.

Professor Ekron and the two engineers, who had been running tests with the engine model nearby, stopped what they were doing and looked in their direction.

The analyst did not answer her, the minders came towards him. Suddenly he bent over and gripped his chest.

"What are you playing at?" one of his minders asked. The prisoner moaned in pain; they could all hear his laboured breathing. When the minder pushed the prisoner back into the chair, the strain on the man's face was evident and his eyes no longer appeared to be focussing. "Call a med immediately," the minder told one of the guards.

* * *

"What happened doctor?" asked Servalan. 

Doctor Goren was reporting to the Federation President on the condition of the patient, from a vidcomm in his office at the Special Detention Centre. He was a senior medical specialist, a man gifted in keeping prisoners alive and suffering. After the error the previous doctor had made in not keeping a closer eye on Avon's physical condition, when the guards were abusing him without permission, Goren had been tasked to take over the prisoner's care.

"He suffered cardiac arrest," he replied. "No one has ever had even half as many sessions in the nerve induction unit as he has."

_Usually because they die or go insane_ he thought to himself.

He continued, "You're not allowing him time in the healing tanks Madame President. What we can do for him without it is not enough for what he requires. He's never given adequate rest, even without the use of the chamber, and he's receiving regular abuse from the guards. I will not take responsibility if he dies. I cannot even hazard to guess what effect using the Shredder this way has had on his mind."

"But you have the technology to bring him back."

"Yes, but there is still a point where the damage becomes too great for even our advanced medical facilities. Prisoners do still die here."

"I need him to finish his work on the engine," she told him.

"He won't be able to unless you change the conditions under which he's working," he replied.

"Very well, give him the medical treatment required to get him back into the lab as soon as possible."

"You're only authorizing the bare minimum?"

"Yes."

_Does that mean that he's expendable after this? Is that why you don't want me to waste my time healing him properly?_

"And the rest he requires?" he asked her.

"You have him sedated?"

"He's unconscious, but we gave him his regular regimen of drugs."

"Give him four hours in addition to the time in the healing tank."

"But Madame President," the doctor protested.

"Four hours, then I want him back in the lab." She cut the connection before he could add anything to his protest.

* * *

After shutting off the connection, Servalan buzzed her personal assistant. 

"Corry, have you heard anything from psychostrategist Sester?"

"He reports that he's a day out, Madame President."

'Very good, tell him to report directly to the SDC. I want his assessment of the prisoner's condition as soon as possible."

"Yes Madame President."

Argus sat in his office at the Banking Complex waiting for the officer from the newest batch of replacements to report in. "Captain Carver" was now second-in-command to Security Commander Foren at the Banking Complex. Argus was very good and had known exactly how to manipulate the unwitting commander. It wasn't difficult. The man was full of resentments and frustrated ambitions and he recognized in the "captain" an intelligent and capable officer who had a sympathetic ear. Somehow Argus had also given the man the impression that his family had influence, the Commander liked influence.

"Commander Argus," a black-clad lieutenant who had come in with the latest batch of replacements exclaimed as he reported to Argus.

Argus was shocked but nothing showed on his face, "The name is Captain Carver, Lieutenant."

Argus's mind was working quickly, thinking of possible tactical ways to deal with this situation. He had not expected anyone to recognize him. The commando groups he had served with were covert operations units who did not have many dealings with regular Federation military or security forces.

The reporting officer took his helmet off. "I was Corporal Klesson sir, when I served with you fourteen years ago in your commando group, when you were still a lieutenant."

"Klesson! Of course I remember," said Argus. Deryal Klesson was a perpetually youthful-looking man who was always mistaken for a young recruit, which annoyed him to no end. He had been an exceptional commando who had served as a corporal in Argus's troop. Unfortunately the man had suffered serious injuries in one operation which prevented him from continuing with the commando units and had been re-assigned. This was years before Argus had become a Land Commander.

This did not improve the situation; Klesson was an unknown quantity who definitely knew who Argus was. The rebel leader proceeded carefully. He tried to remember what he could of this man.

What he needed was someone who was much better at plots and conspiracies. Unfortunately, Jenna was with Cally somewhere on Gelentrix.

"What are you doing impersonating a Captain here, sir?"

_I should have told myself to stay out of trouble_, thought Argus. Vila was due to arrive tomorrow.


	8. Chapter 8

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Fighting Back**

Chapter Eight

Psychostrategist Sester arrived at the Federation Special Detention Centre and went directly to the medical wing.

"Why is the prisoner A5428 back in here? Didn't the President tell you to return him to the lab after the medical treatment and rest?"

Dr. Goren replied, "He collapsed again shortly after being returned to the lab."

"I thought he had been given time in the healing tanks?"

"Yes, but the President only authorized the bare minimum; he needs much more than that. You know the effects of the nerve induction unit, it's not just physical. He's been given almost daily, two-hour periods in the chamber for the past two months without any additional time to recover. It was supposed to expose him to the torture without the debilitating side effects, but the effects have become cumulative; we didn't expect that. It's become much worse than multiple full sessions in the chamber; it's never been used this way before. He's been dying slowly for the last two weeks."

"How much rest does he need to recover?"

"At this point, he needs a week in the healing tanks plus several weeks' rest. If he doesn't get it, we may not be able to save the heart, he may require a transplant and if the chamber is to be continued to be used on him, we have to change the protocols to allow him time to recover. If we don't, eventually even our advanced medical facilities will no longer be able to bring him back."

"The President is not going to like that; he's at a crucial stage in the lab."

"She's going to like it even less if he dies and we aren't able to bring him back."

"Why wasn't this reported to the President before?"

"As I said, it was unexpected. He has great strength of will, unfortunately for him; more than anyone I've worked on before. He's been able to fight the effects until now, but it's finally overwhelmed him. I did try to tell the President this, but she didn't give me time to explain, and I got the impression that there was no need for him to remain alive after he finishes his work."

"Give me his medical records."

The doctor handed the data crystal containing Avon's records to the psychostrategist.

"This also contains my recommendations for medical treatment, depending on what the final goal is."

"Thank you doctor."

"One additional thing, if the goal is not to kill him yet, then we have to be very careful from now on; because of his strength of will, whenever he collapses from whatever is being done to him, he is actually in much worse shape any normal prisoner. Most people fall apart long before he does, and we fix the damage much earlier."

As Sester left the medical wing and headed to his quarters in order to study the data crystal of Avon's medical records, he was annoyed. _I do wish she would tell me when there is a change in the agenda. This doesn't make any sense, I cannot believe she would allow you to die Avon, at least not yet, you are still much too useful. Unless something has changed_.

He had to talk to the Federation President immediately.

"Have you finally decided to let him die after he finishes work on the phase engine?" Sester asked Servalan the moment she appeared on his screen.

* * *

After reviewing Avon's medical records and the records of what had been done to him while the psychostrategist had been away, Sester was not pleased. Rather than following his carefully planned strategy, it appeared that the Centre personnel had deliberately tried to kill the analyst, slowly; and she had allowed it.

"Is that the way to greet me the moment you come back," she asked, ignoring his question.

"Sorry Madame President, where were my manners," Sester responded. "I tend to become focussed and forget everything else." It was not like him to forget the niceties in his pursuit of a goal.

"You are forgiven."

"Well?" He still wanted answers.

"You should know the answer."

_So the agenda has not changed. What game are you playing then Madame President?_

"Then why are you letting this happen?"

"Is it really that bad?"

"From the reports of the senior doctor at the Centre, there has been a lot of damage to his heart. At some point, even with the advanced medical facilities at the Centre, it may not be reversible. If you don't tell them to ease up on the use of the nerve induction chamber, and the other punishments, he may require a transplant soon; which will put him out of commission for at least two weeks. I don't think you would want that, considering the stage he is at in the lab. At the moment, any level of stress will cause cardiac arrest; you've only succeeded in breaking his body."

"I was waiting for you to return. You know that the Centre personnel are useless when it comes to him."

"You may have waited too long. The doctor says that the use of the nerve induction unit has had a cumulative effect; we will have to be careful with its use from now on. Mentally and physically, he is suffering from the same kind of trauma as being subjected to several full sessions in the chamber, except that it is even worse. He should have collapsed along time ago but he's been able to fight it and continue working. By carrying on, he's paid a terrible price, and it's finally proven too much for him."

"Have you seen him yet?" Servalan asked.

"Not yet, it won't serve any useful purpose until I can talk to him, and that might not be for awhile."

"You are authorized to do whatever it takes to bring him back but remember I need him in the lab to finish the phase engine as soon as it is physically possible. Keep me informed."

"Don't I always?"

Servalan closed the connection from her end.

Sester sat staring at the blank screen, thinking.

_You nearly killed him this time but you clearly did not want him dead. What is it about your relationship with him which causes this conflict of purposes? _

He wondered if he should do something about this state of affairs. One thing he did not like was having his carefully constructed strategies destroyed by the illogical whims of others.

* * *

The two engineers were gathered in Professor Tyler's apartment. The prisoner's collapse had shocked them all. His subsequent return to the lab and his second collapse had spurred Professor Tyler to action.

Tyler found that she could no longer ignore what was happening to the analyst. She had taken a big risk in trying to contact the Federation President but it had done no good. She had only gotten as far as the President's secretary and had left a personal recorded appeal, it was doubtful it had even reached the President.

The prisoner had not made an appearance in a week and they were all worried. When they asked, they were informed that he was ill and was receiving medical treatment but after witnessing the guards' and minders' handling of him in the lab, they were not sure what kind of treatment he was getting.

Tyler had called her companions to discuss what they could do to help him.

"Look Professor, I don't like what's happening anymore than you do but what can we do? It's a secure facility, guards and security everywhere. I'm not about to commit suicide." York told her.

Delan added his opinion, "I want to help him too but I will not risk my career."

Tyler looked at her fellow professor. He also disappointed her. "Brena, I don't see what we can do; we're scientists, not rebels."

"I'm not saying that we should break him out; but there must be something we can do to help him."

"We've tried several times already," York told her. "You know what they did to him when we did that, it only made it worse."

Tyler was exasperated at their lack of imagination. "First of all we need to get him away from the lab."

They were all about to register a protest at this seemingly unwise idea when she continued. "One thing they want from him is success on this phase engine. It's clear that none of the people assigned to watch him have the ability to understand what we've been doing. When we set up the full-size prototype in a real ship, it cannot be in the lab, it will have to be in a remote location away from the lab. What if we set it up so that it is essential that he be there personally?"

Professor Ekron said, "That may just be possible Brena, but once we get him out there, then what? He'll probably have a heavily armed security escort, rescue will still be out of the question, and getting him out there so he can enjoy the sunshine doesn't seem much of a help.

"If he is rescued, they will know we had something to do with it," pointed out York.

Tyler told him, "You work on a plan to get him out of the lab, leave the rest of it to me."

"You have an idea, don't you?" Delan asked. "Hopefully one which doesn't involve us being executed or sent to a penal colony?"

"Yes, but it may be safer for all of you if I don't reveal what it is just yet." She wasn't about to tell them that she didn't have any idea yet but she was confident she would be able to figure out something.

* * *

"We have a problem," Argus told Allren and Ture as they stood guard outside the sensitive storage area. "Someone from my commando days recognized me."

"Who?" asked Allren.

"The new lieutenant, Klesson. He was a corporal when I first met him."

"Can you trust him?"

"That's the problem, I don't know. He wasn't part of my group when I became Land Commander. For now, we have to assume that he's a loyal Federation soldier."

"That's definitely a problem," mumbled Ture.

"You aren't in the stockade now so you obviously told him something to satisfy him," asked Allren.

"I told him that I was working undercover for Central Security and that I was investigating Commander Feldon," said Argus.

"That's clever," said Allren. For some reason, just the mention of Federation Central Security made people back off.

"Hopefully that will keep him nervous enough that he won't keep asking questions, but we will have to be careful. I'm going to send an extra set of instructions to Vila."

* * *

ORAC had just reported another unexpected burst signal from Argus.

"First he locks up all the liquor, now he wants me to go down and rescue him?" said Vila incredulously. He was definitely not in a good mood. All attempts at unlocking the alcohol dispensers had only resulted in several dismantled dispenser units and no alcohol.

"Obviously," said ORAC.

"I wasn't asking you," said Vila.

"There are additional messages from Argus," said ORAC.

"I don't know that I want to hear it," grumbled Vila.

"Argus says to remind you that he has the authorization code to the alcohol dispensers and he promises not to get you killed. The final message is that Zen also has coded orders to only follow your instructions if those instructions are to go to Elarus to complete the mission."

"That is really unfair," said Vila angrily. "I'm sure there's a name for this, like blackmail or extortion or something."


	9. Chapter 9

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Fighting Back**

Chapter Nine

"Avon." A voice came through the darkness. He was swimming through thick fog but now he was drifting upwards towards the voice. Someone is whimpering.

_"_Wake up Avon"_ Don't want to wake up, waking up is a bad idea. Go away._ Somehow he knew that where the voice was, there was pain, lots of pain; he struggled against the force which was dragging him upwards.

"Avon." It was the same insistent voice. _Stop telling me to wake up!_

There was a familiar pressure, it seemed so far away. There was a faint hissing sound.

A voice again, but he couldn't hear anything.

"Think Avon."

He tried to concentrate. _No, don't want to think; thinking means I have to wake_ up.

"You have no choice now."

His mind felt like it was being squeezed; someone moaned, it was a familiar voice but he couldn't place it.

The fog was starting to thin.

"Wake up Avon."The insistent voice called to him again.

_No. Want to stay here where it doesn't hurt._

Light, ahead is a bright annoying light. His chest hurt and something was pounding; his mind continued floating to the surface, he couldn't stop it.

"Give him another one."

He was nearing the surface now; he was still fighting against it but that only slowed his ascent towards the light, it didn't stop it.

He felt pressure on his neck again, this time he felt the drugs entering his system.

More fog dissipating, more pain intruding into his subconscious. Groan. He recognized the sound now; it was the sound of his own voice.

"Avon, I know it's difficult, but I want you to wake up."

His mind struggled against the tide of consciousness; constant familiar pains; he could feel his body again.

His eyes opened. Ahhh. The light hurt, his hands reached out to block the brightness. His hands are shaking; his body was shivering as if it was cold, except it wasn't.

"Turn down the lights." Lights dimmed, one source of pain was gone.

"Thanks." The voice was a harsh whisper. _Was that my voice_?

"Don't mention it."

His vision was blurry but he could make out a face. "Sester?"

"You're back."

"Did I go somewhere?" His voice still seemed far away.

"I was worried about you."

_Why?_

"Don't drift off Avon, you have to concentrate."

"I'm trying."

"I know but you have to try harder."

"I'm tired." _I don't want to_.

"I know."

"It hurts." _Leave me alone_.

"Come on Avon, you've had much worse than this." The voice was unrelenting.

_Yes, but why does it always have to hurt?_ His eyes closed.

"Give him another one."

"No." But the voice was not to be denied; there was pressure against his neck and the hiss of another injection.

The fog is virtually gone; there is nowhere left to hide. More pain intrudes; more groaning.

"Stay with me Avon."

The analyst opened his eyes. "Am I dreaming?"

"Have I ever appeared in your nightmares?"

"Not yet."

Sester gave a brief smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Are we at that question again?"

Sester turned to the medtech,"Help him up and give him some water."

The medtech helped Avon up so he could sit leaning against the wall. After giving him some water, he retreated back out of the way.

"I thought it was a dream." His voice was no longer far away but his mind was still drifting.

"It's not a dream."

"What did you do to me?" _It's not too late; I can still go back into the fog_.

"It was the induction chamber; we misjudged the effects of using it this way. It was destroying your heart, amongst other things."

"So I'm a test subject now?"

"No, it was a mistake. What was the last thing you remember?"

Avon closed his eyes and tried to remember but all that came were memories of pain and exhaustion in the lab, in the interrogation rooms, in the induction unit; the memories all came crashing in on him. He was out of breath, his left arm was numb, a tight band seemed to be squeezing his chest; it hurt. He clutched at his chest; his life had become a nightmare, a nightmare he could no longer bear. He was going to go back down again, back down into the fast disappearing fog; away from the horror.

"Quickly," Sester directed the medtech. The man stepped forward, applied the bio-injector to Avon's neck and injected him with a new mix of drugs. The medtech held a bio-scanner over the prisoner's chest until his life signs stabilized.

The medtech nodded to the psychostrategist and retreated back out of the way.

"Avon, are you still with me?"

_No_.

Avon kept his eyes closed; he did not want to be with these people; it was too hard, too painful. He could not stand being helpless again, being nothing but a tool to be used, he wanted to go back into the fog.

The pressure in his head began to build; it would not let him go back into the fog.

"Give him another one."

_No! I can't do this anymore._ Pressure against the neck and another injection, he was helpless.

The analyst opened his eyes.

"Keep your eyes on me Avon."

"I don't want to do this anymore."

"You don't have a choice."

"I did, once." _I remember that._

"Yes, but you gave up that choice to her."

"I didn't have a choice, you made sure of that." _I was always right too, once._

His chest felt tight again.

"Yes, I did. Do you understand what was done?"

"Why?" _Yes I do_. _It's always a game to you._ Anger, coldness: his mind was calculating again. _What is this game you are playing now_? An attack of pain.

Avon clutched his chest again and groaned. "What's wrong with me?" He was out of breath; his mind was slipping away again.

The medtech came forward and gave him another injection, the pressure gradually eased but the pain remained.

"It's a result of the nerve induction chamber, it had a cumulative effect. You're suffering from the same trauma you would normally have with multiple full sessions; normally you would be barely conscious for days afterwards. Using the unit this way meant that you were more conscious than you should be, making the effects much worse. The surgeons have fixed the damage to your heart but it's still very weak. What you really need is rest."

"How long have I been out?"

"Eleven days. Unfortunately, she wants you back in the lab as soon as possible, I can't hold her off much longer, you will have to try."

"I have already given her my best."

"I know and it almost killed you; but as you said, you no longer have a choice."

"I no longer have a choice," Avon whispered; he closed his eyes. His mind was still drifting; perhaps it would never come back.

"Avon," Sester's voice was sharp, bringing him back. "You no longer have a choice."

The analyst came back. He opened his eyes, he could see properly now. He nodded.

_It's good to have you back_ Sester thought with relief as he saw that Avon's eyes were now focussed. He had been worried; the analyst had resisted, his subconscious had not wanted to come back.

Sester signalled the security observer to open the cell door. Two black-uniformed Centre guards entered the cell.

"Bring him," Sester ordered. They pulled the prisoner up off the platform and followed the psychostrategist out. The medtech trailed behind them.

Avon came along unresisting; he couldn't guess where they were bringing him, it was not the tunnel to the lab. He had no interest in speculating, whatever lay at the end, would only serve their purposes and usually it involved a lot of pain on his part. He closed his eyes. He kept stumbling as they dragging him along.

The party entered a lift; it ascended in a long journey upwards. Movement stopped and the door opened.

There were different sounds, different smells, Avon opened his eyes; they were on the roof. The guards brought him over to the edge where there was a chest-high ledge encircling the roof.

"Let go of him," Sester told the guards.

Avon stood unsteadily on his feet, supporting himself with the ledge. He looked up; the sun was warm on his face. He took a deep breath, the air smelled sweet. It had been along time; he was always kept underground, or in fully sealed transports when he needed to be moved, to see anything other than walls was disconcerting.

"What game are you playing now Sester?"

"I thought being up here might speed up your recovery."

"Bring me back down," Avon told him, his voice was cold. He did not want to be part of this new game.

"No."

"Did you really think some fresh air would help me?"

"No, not the fresh air; well what passes for fresh air under the domes."

Avon looked out over the ledge, the Special Detention Centre was a building isolated by laser fencing, security screens, and surrounded by a large buffer area actively monitored by security cameras. He could see dozens of detectors beams criss-crossing the grounds and signs of deadly defence systems, those were the ones he could see. He knew there had to be many more, invisible ones. They were probably managed by a series of discreet computer systems and the security precautions had most likely been increased after the successful break-in by the rebels. It would be even harder to bypass them now. Harder but not impossible.

Avon stopped; his mind had automatically set about the task of trying to break through the security systems; he realized he had been manipulated again.

_Am I really nothing but a logical, calculating computer? Is that what they've made me into, or is that what I have always been?_

He pushed himself away from the ledge and hit a wall. One of the burly guards had come up close behind him, preventing him from moving away; the guard pushed him forward again.

"What do you see Avon?" Sester asked.

"Stop it." There was no expression on the analyst's face but there was a cold anger now. He turned to face the strategist who stood beside him. "You've achieved what you wanted; you can put me back to work."

For a moment, they stared at each other, the tension and challenge very clear between them.

"Very well," replied the psychostrategist. He directed the guards to bring the prisoner back down to the lab.

As the lift doors closed, the last rays of the sun reflected on Avon's face, but he no longer saw them.

Sester looked out over the edge of the building, he smiled. He had known that all it took to bring the analyst back was to expose him to a challenge which required his mind; that need to understand and solve a problem was an integral part of who Avon was.

To turn a man into a machine was not difficult. The instinct for self-preservation made it possible for some people to completely cut themselves off; Avon had done it all his life. But the analyst's brilliance lay in something very human; that ability to see what no computer could ever see, calculations which went beyond mere pattern and logic.

Avon saw a truth which when applied to humans, often disappointed; which was why he had abandoned all hope in the human race long ago and why he had cut himself off; but he could never cut off that part of himself which made him exceptional and that was the part which made him vulnerable.

* * *

As the phase engine group began putting a plan into place, the prisoner was returned to the lab; he was still deathly pale, but appeared to be stronger. At least he no longer collapsed and it appeared that his minders had been told to ease up on the pressure; they did not punish him when he began taking more frequent rest breaks and they now gave him what appeared to be supplement injections during the group's meal times. 

His interaction with them was at a bare minimum now. Apart from his work, he barely acknowledged their presence; his brilliance was still intact but it was clear to all of them that it cost him a great deal to maintain his concentration. He tired easily and often seemed out of breath.

The tech minders also left him alone now when he was working, unless they identified a clear threat to security.


	10. Chapter 10

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Fighting Back**

Chapter Ten

Jenna, Cally and Lantro were in the dining area, sharing another evening meal aboard the smuggler's cruiser. The evening had passed pleasantly so far. Cally had even told them an Auron equivalent of a joke, which had left Jenna and Lantro looking at each other puzzled, then they had burst out laughing. Cally was certain they had not gotten her joke, but she wasn't quite sure.

"Lantro, I want to talk about something more serious," said Jenna. It seemed the opportune time to bring up the topic she had been waiting to bring up since she had told her plans to Cally several weeks ago. They had been biding their time and trying to establish a good, easy relationship with their captor. Jenna knew Lantro was ruthlessly professional, but he was also a good man, for a smuggler.

The fingers of Lantro's right hand had a nervous habit of playing with the bird charm hanging from the chain around his neck but he only did this when he was relaxed. At Jenna's request to change the tone of the conversation, the already guarded man was instantly on the alert. Cally noticed that his fingers were no longer nervously touching the charm.

"As long as you stay away from the commission or the utiliser, go ahead," he told her.

"Of course. I know that this is business for you Lantro, and I accept that, but you've put a spanner into my own plans. There was a reason I came looking for you on Gelentrix."

"I had almost forgotten."

"I haven't. I don't know what your commission is or who your utiliser is, and I won't ask. It may be that I will not survive once you deliver me."

"If you're trying to gain sympathy so that I will not give you to the utiliser then you don't know me at all Jenna. None of this has made any difference to my commission."

"I know that. You are a professional. But if I am to die," _which I don't plan to by the way, but I'll deal with that when the time comes,_ thought Jenna, "I would like to, with the knowledge that I had completed my own task; my own commission, if you will; with your help since I can't do it myself now."

"What is this commission?" Lantro asked. Despite his hard manner, he was not a man without a heart; and though he did not tell her, Lantro had always liked Jenna and admired her skills as a pilot. She had done him some small favours in the past which he was not unappreciative of. The last few weeks of relating with her had also caused him to respect her wit and intelligence. It would not stop him from completing his commission, as Jenna had noted correctly, he was first of all a professional, but if there was anything else he could do for her, he would give it serious consideration.

"I assume that you still hate the Shovoan Group?"

"With my dying breath," Lantro said with unexpected vehemence. His reaction was so strong and so deep that Cally could feel his strong hatred; it was as strong as his hatred for the Federation. She could sense that somehow the two feelings were connected.

The Shovoan's had killed Lantro's bond-mate. They had betrayed an alliance between their two smuggler groups when the Federation had put pressure on them to give up their territories. The Shovoans had accepted, but Lantro's group had not. The Federation refused to accept the agreement unless both groups agreed. This had caused the Shovoans to turn on their former allies. When Lantro still refused, and it seemed imminent that military forces would invade and take their territories by force, the Shovoans had kidnapped his bond-mate in order to force him to surrender. He had, but the Federation had killed his bond-mate anyways and tried to wipe his group out, considering them too troublesome to deal with.

Lantro developed a real hatred for the Federation, and he held the Shovoans responsible for the death of his mate. What was left of his smuggler group had gone into hiding. They had been practicing their trade out on the border rims for the past fourteen years, a nameless band of wanderers with no home, but with a reputation for ruthlessness. He had never forgotten the Shovoans though.

"Why do you bring them up?" asked Lantro. His voice was hard.

_Don't be too quick Jenna_. Cally projected to Jenna, even though she knew the woman would most likely not hear her. Jenna had never heard her before.

"I wanted to hire you to stir up some trouble for them. How much depended on you." Jenna knew that the 'how much' would result in more than just 'some' trouble, it suited her perfectly; which was why she had originally chosen Lantro's group.

"Do you know the Amagons?"

"Not much. Haven't had many dealings with them before."

"Well, let's just say, I have good reason to stir up trouble for them too."

"What does one group have to do with the other?"

"How would you like to practice a little deception?"

His eyes narrowed, "What do you have in mind."

"At the moment, you don't have enough resources or manpower to take on the Shovoans; else you would have done it long ago."

Lantro was about to dispute that but Jenna continued, "But the Amagons do."

"Ahhh." He smiled. "You have a plan?"

"Yes, I did."

"Did, or still do?" he asked her.

Jenna smiled. She told him her plans.

* * *

Vila was in the teleport room. He had just snapped on a teleport bracelet and was checking his kit bag. On the floor lay an equipment box with tools for Allren and Ture. ORAC sat on the teleport console.

"Vila do this, Vila do that, open this safe, bring that box…who does he thing he is?" The thief was grumbling to himself. "Well, before I open anything, we're going to have some serious words about this 'no alcohol' policy. Maybe I'll just leave after this. Go back to CC," he said angrily.

"Ten minutes until the specified time sequence window for teleport," ORAC reported.

"You're as bad as a mother hen," said Vila ill-humouredly. "I will not be bossed around by a plastic box."

"There is nothing about this unit which resembles a...," started ORAC.

"Oh shut up ORAC," said Vila irritably.

* * *

"How long will the security cameras be out," Argus asked Allren. The two tech mercenaries were standing the night guard in front of the sensitive stores vault. They were all waiting for Vila who was due in less than a minute. It was extremely quiet, it was the early hours of the morning, and everyone was asleep except for the duty guards.

"Two hours," Allren replied. He had looped footage from his previous night duty into the security system already. Ture would not be able to by-pass the computer-linked sensors without the equipment Vila was bringing.

"That's more than enough time," remarked Argus.

"How's your friend?" asked Allren, referring to the Lieutenant who had recognized Argus.

"So far, he seems to have accepted the story, but he's starting to get suspicious. It's a good thing we'll be out of here soon. Our other friend," Argus was referring to ORAC, "should have already have arranged the new transfer orders. It just needs to clear the red-tape."

"You mean Commander Foren," joked Allren. He knew that Argus detested the Complex commander and hated having to spend time everyday listening to the man's boring stories and conspiracy theories and pretending that he was interested.

"Keep that up and I'll have you cleaning out the food freezer next. We're still stuck here until the new orders come through."

A previously locked door, which Argus had checked earlier, suddenly opened behind the rebel leader. Argus spun around, it was Lieutenant Klesson. Klesson had his standard Federation pulse rifle pointed at them. Argus had enough time to draw his weapon but in that split second between thought and action, had decided not to because of the charade. By the time he registered Klesson and his pulse rifle pointed at them, it was too late.

"Put your hands up," Lieutenant Klesson told them. "and keep them away from your weapons. That means you too, 'Captain Carver'. Move away from the vault door," he directed them. Allren and Ture moved as instructed, their hands held high. Argus hesitated, he knew Vila was about to appear any second.

"I won't ask a second time," Klesson waved his rifle threateningly at Argus.

At that moment, Vila shimmered into view beside the vault door. Startled, Klesson fired. Argus shoved Vila out of the way and took the full blast on his right shoulder. Within a split second, Klesson fell dead as both Allren and Ture's pulse shots hit him full in the chest.

Argus crumpled to the floor, an ugly red stain was already spreading on his uniform where the shot had hit him.

"Argus," exclaimed Vila as he knelt down beside the rebel leader.

"Get the safe open," Argus ordered him. He couldn't feel the pain yet, but knew he would once the adrenaline wore off. "Ture, by-pass those sensors." Without a word, Ture picked up the equipment box which Vila had dropped on the ground, and set to work. Allren provided cover for them.

Vila did not move. He had been intent on arguing with Argus the moment he had teleported down. Being shot had never occurred to him, and having Argus shove him out of the way, and take the shot meant for him, had definitely not been on his mind. The thief was frozen; he could do little more than crouch beside Argus in uncomprehending shock.

"Vila, you don't have time for this, you have to get the lock open," said Argus "If you want to yell at me for the trick with the alcohol dispensers, you have to finish this first," he added, trying to get the thief to react.

That line made Vila remember his anger; it produced the effect Argus was hoping for. Vila picked up his kit bag and began working on the lock. Argus could feel himself starting to go into shock. He put pressure over the wound in order to stem the bleeding.

Within a few minutes, the safe was open without tripping any alarms; Ture entered the vault and found the crystal they were looking for. He began taking the required readings from the LC crystal with a light diffuser.

"How are you doing Argus?" Allren asked.

"I've been better," replied Argus, he was now propped up against the wall. He addressed Ture,"Did you get it?"

Ture nodded, put the diffuser unit back in his equipment box and handed it to Vila. He put the crystal back into the vault and Vila closed up the lock.

Allren "We should get you back to the _Justice_."

"No," said Argus.

"You're going to bleed to death," said Allren.

"Not if I get to the medical bay on level three."

"You're still going through with the plan?" asked Vila incredulously. He had finally found his voice and was now angry that the man who had just saved his life was intent on killing himself.

"Leave it to me," said Argus. "I can convince Foren that there was a conspiracy and that someone was out to discredit him by sabotaging the Banking computers. He's so paranoid about conspiracies aimed at him that he'll believe anything."

Argus had not told them that he had been planning this alternative ever since Klesson had entered the picture. He had hoped that this provision would never have to be used. As "Captain Carver", he had been encouraging the Complex Commander's increasing paranoia towards some areas which would be useful for them. Argus was learning to be devious. He didn't know if he liked this.

Argus addressed Allren, "Do you think you can move the body, and me, down to corridor fifteen on sub-level two without being detected?"

"With Ture's help to by-pass the cameras and sensors, and the right tools, yes," replied Allren. "That means Vila can't leave yet."

They all proceeded to sub-level two without incident.

Once Argus and the body were positioned, and the two mercenaries had returned to their posts, it was time for Vila to leave.

"Look, Argus," began Vila.

"The code to release the dispensers is beta seven seven six."

"I wasn't about to ask that."

"I know. Now go, before I pass out," said Argus, as he leaned against the wall, next to the alarm button. "It would be embarrassing if I bled to death standing here."

"Just embarrassing?" asked Vila.

"What else. Now get out of here."

Vila thumbed the comm on the teleport bracelet, "ORAC, take me up."

As Vila shimmered out of view, Argus pressed the alarm, and then crumpled to the ground.


	11. Chapter 11

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Fighting Back**

Chapter Eleven

Without the abuse, the analyst grew stronger each day. Soon the research group would be able to start working on the full scale model of the phase-TD engine. They were already making preparations. A detailed holo-model along with the attendant calculation models were being readied for each component. Only a handful remained to be finished.

Tyler realized that she had to get a move on with her own preparations as she worked with the prisoner over the holo-model of the dimensional phase stream core.

Professor Ekron had already done his part; he had suggested a set of circumstances which would require that the analyst be onsite when the final tests were being carried out, a site which could not be the lab since the forces involved were dangerous. In order for it to succeed though, they had to get through to the analyst and obtain his cooperation without alerting the minders or the guards.

The plan involved introducing a deliberate but slight design flaw into the core and using the analyst's amazing ability to spot flow discrepancies while they were forming. His ability to do this had prevented a major implosion of the core several times. They were close to a solution. When dealing in pure math, the tech minders were out of their depth. Tyler was hoping she would be able to communicate to the analyst this way.

The flawed solution Ekron had proposed would work in most circumstances but would prevent the final ten percent which gave the engine its full potential. The research group would be able to test without the analyst onsite until the final tests. Those final tests would be frustratingly slow until they suggested that the analyst be allowed to visit the site. Professor Tyler hoped that the tech minders would be smart enough to suggest first; it would reduce the risk on the research group, but she that they could not depend on the intelligence of the minders.

She uploaded calculations from her datapad into the computer. These calculations included the design flaw. She knew that the analyst would be able to recognize immediately that something was not right; if not spot the error right away. It was up to her to head off his reaction and communicate to him that it was necessary.

Fortunately he was a man who rarely reacted to anything and he never acted before applying his cold, calculating mind to everything. This would enable her to do what was needed to set up the scenario they needed.

As the prisoner slowly recuperated, the minders had been more tolerant of the researchers increased concern for his welfare. Professor Tyler had found that she could communicate with him in a limited way through the application of pure math and the use of the various simulations because the minders had no knowledge of that area and generally left the prisoner alone when they were doing that.

""I did some game modelling of our problem last night, just like you did before. There is something I wanted to run by you. Take a look at this," Tyler activated a holo-model of the data she had uploaded." It was a computational puzzle.

The analyst studied the rotating puzzle model for a moment, and then he looked at her. His face was as expressionless as usual but she could tell that he was puzzled. They were already close to a solution to the dimensional phasing problem with the core. What the professor was doing did not seem to serve a useful purpose.

"Just watch first before you make any comments," she told him as she continued to work. Tyler carefully kept her tone normal.

He nodded.

As she worked, he became even more puzzled, but as usual, he had no visual reaction.

After it became clear what she was doing he began, "There appear to be…"

"Yes," Tyler answered immediately and nodded at him, cutting him off before he could say anything more.

"That's interesting," was his only additional remark. He did not say anything else and only sat back, watching her manipulate the model.

Avon thought,_ Yes, very interesting. You appear to be dealing with two separate problems here, each one with a different goal and each is advancing in parallel._

Tyler input some additional parameters.

_Even more interesting. You must realize that by doing that, you are blocking the resolution of one of them, _the analyst thought as he noted the affect the additional parameters were having, even as Tyler began advancing the solution to the second problem.

"You understand what I'm doing and why?" she asked him. Tyler had also been watching the reactions of the minders carefully. There had been no reaction, it was clear they had not picked up anything unusual.

The prisoner looked at her and held her eyes for a brief moment. He had no reaction throughout their exchange, but with this brief indication, Tyler knew he was puzzled but would play along.

He said, "You have two solutions and you want my opinion on their viability?"

_I don't really understand why but it is clear you have some purpose for doing this. _He had not missed her interest in the reaction of the minders either.

"Yes," said Tyler. She was careful not to show her relief when she realized the analyst understood.

"Now keeping that in mind, take a look at the solution I was working on last night," Tyler told him as she brought up the data she had uploaded to the computer from her datapad.

The analyst pored over the data and immediately saw the problem. He began making side notes. _That was the reason for the charade with the puzzle, you want to introduce a deliberate fault and you want to tell me that you have a secondary purpose which you're trying to advance. Not very subtle but I might be able to use this._

Avon did not trust anyone, especially not here, but he had judged that Professor Tyler was a weak link who could be exploited. Despite the limited interaction they were allowed in the lab, Avon recognized that she was sympathetic towards him. It did not stop her from using him, but she would try to assuage her guilt by trying to help him. This was useful for him.

The analyst added a single coded sequence into the data which did not appear any different than any of the other data he was inputting. This sequence was different, the next time Tyler connected her datapad to the computer, which she did regularly at the end of each work session, and the coded sequence would attach itself to the data she uploaded.

Over the past few months, the analyst had been surreptitiously creating discreet hidden subroutines which attached themselves to the data stream when Professor Tyler uploaded data from the lab computer to her own datapad. When she returned to her residence and connected the datapad with her personal computer which had network access. Once connected, the subs migrate into the network, where they would remain hidden until further orders. They were self-linking subs which would put themselves together into a modified virus, very similar to the Federation spy ASPs, once the coded sequence, which Avon just added into the data stream, was received. This advanced ASP's directive was to contact ORAC using the command code and frequency.

_Very soon now, _thought Avon. In their harsh treatment, Servalan and all of her Federation thugs had been trying to prevent him from doing something like this, but as long as they didn't kill him, he still had a chance.

* * *

Argus was back on the _Justice_. Allren and Ture had been dropped off and were in the process of carrying out the next part of the plan to have their hacker friends start playing with the Federation Banking System. Argus and Vila were on their way to Gelentrix to meet up with Jenna and Cally.

Security Commander Foren had been very disappointed that his most able captain had been reassigned. He was very grateful that Captain Carver had foiled a major conspiracy to disrupt the computer system in order to discredit his command.

"Here," Vila said to Argus, handing him a drink mixed with adrenaline and soma.

"I see you got the dispensers unlocked," said Argus as he accepted the glass. He should have still been in the medical bay, but Argus hated being an invalid and insisted on recuperating on the flight deck. His left shoulder was bandaged and immobilized by a sling.

"You still haven't told me why you did it?" asked Vila.

"Did what?"

"Why you push me out of the way."

"I promised you that I wouldn't get you killed, I always keep my promises," Argus told him.

_That's an extreme way of keeping your promises, if you ask me_, thought Vila. Although the thief appreciated having his life saved, people who had this kind of single-mindedness always disturbed him.

Argus took a drink from the glass, and promptly passed out on the couch.

"Argus?" Vila called out to the rebel leader, there was no response. "I told you to stay in the medical bay, but no one listens to me. At least the soma and adrenaline worked." He carefully removed the glass from Argus's hand and drank the rest of it himself.

* * *

"Avon," Sester said as he entered the analyst's cell. As usual when Sester or Servalan talked to the prisoner alone, the security monitors had been turned off.

Avon looked the psychostrategist without reaction or response, he had been waiting for the medtech with the sedatives, and a visit by the strategist was not welcome.

"How are you feeling?" Sester asked.

"Why, are you going to give me another trip to the roof?"

"Do you want one?"

The analyst looked his opponent, wondering what game was being played this time.

"Don't you ever stop playing games?" asked Avon tiredly.

The psychostrategist smiled, "But then it wouldn't be as much fun Avon."

"Perhaps not for you."

"Perhaps you should learn to enjoy it as well. It's the only thing you have."

"Is that where this is going? You want me to accept this prison and learn to enjoy being forced to play your games? You can tell Servalan that I will never accept it."

"The Federation President has nothing to do with this."

"She has everything to do with it."

"You hate her very much don't you?"

"Yes, I'm sure it keeps her up at nights."

_That's interesting. I wonder if it does? _thought Sester

"We never did finish our conversation about the Federation President."

"I believe I told you there is nothing to discuss."

"But 'she has everything to do with it'."

Avon looked at him coldly.

"Does Servalan know you are trying to find out more information about her?"

_Very good Avon, but I am not so easily dissuaded._

"That's why the security monitors are off," Sester told him, inclining his head slightly towards the cameras.

"Let's begin with the first time you had an opportunity to interact on a personal level with the President; I believe that was on Sarran."

"Let's not."

"Avon, you might as well humour me. You know that I can keep you up until they come to take you back to the lab. If you want to sleep, then talk to me."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Let's just say it's for educational purposes." _You're still trying to avoid it, _thought Sester

_So you don't want to tell me. Interesting_, thought Avon.

Three hours later, Sester was still trying to drag information from Avon regarding the events on Sarran. The analyst had countered him at almost every turn and only given him some additional information; and very little of it was useful information about Servalan.

Conversely, Avon still did not know why Sester wanted to know about Servalan. The psychostrategist never revealed anything unless he wished it.

"I guess I should let you get a little sleep, you only have an hour left before they come for you. I'll send for the medtech."

"Do you plan to do this every night until I tell you what want to know?" asked Avon before Sester left.

"I'm not like Servalan."

"Then how do you expect to get information from me?"

"Psychostrategists have their own ways," replied Sester as he exited the cell.

* * *

As Sester walked back to his own quarters at the SDC, he reflected on the conversation with Avon. He had gotten what he wanted from the analyst. As long as Avon was kept ignorant of the real goals, the analyst was at a distinct disadvantage. Puppets never knew the motivations of the puppet master, though he had to be extra careful with Avon. The psychostrategist always had to be at the top of his game when playing with him.

Sester's goal had not been to find out any specific details about the Federation President, although it would have been useful. The primary purpose had been to assess Avon's relationship with Servalan.

In the way the analyst had stubbornly refused to give him any useful information, Sester had been able to assemble an interesting picture. Avon was as obsessed with the Federation President as she was with him. This was a very useful piece of information.

* * *

Professor Tyler felt out-of-place. She was sitting in a dark bar. Well, technically it wasn't your typical bar, where alcoholic drinks were served, it was a hacker bar; meaning that if you knew where to look, lots of illegal activity could be found. Alcoves lined the wall, each with sophisticated computer terminals. The flickering of the screens threw strange shadows on the walls. The beverage of choice here was as much syntha-coffee as it was the alcoholic ones. Patrons sitting in front of the terminals, manipulated hand-interface units madly, making them look like deranged music conductors.

The only person Tyler knew who could help her was someone who operated on the fringe. It was an old friend from her college days; actually it was an old boyfriend.

Sheldon Grene was a brilliant computer analyst who had run into trouble with Federation Security forces. He had been fortunate that they never found out that he was the leader of the group who had planned to disrupt the Central Space Port Authority computers. As a result, he had only spent a few years in a low-security penal facility. After being released, he tried to keep off the Federation Security's radar by operating on the fringe and off the grid.

The last thing Tyler had heard of him was that he liked to frequent the hacker bars. This was the third one she had visited today.

The professor went up to the bar owner who was playing with his own terminal sitting atop the bar.

"Can I help you?" the man in a bright purple shirt and several days' growth of beard asked her as she approached. His eyes swept her from head to toe in a single glance. He regarded her suspiciously. Professor Tyler felt like an alien.

The brilliant academic had never before put herself in any situation which would attract the unwelcome attention of Federation Security forces. The closest was during her relationship with Sheldon Grene. To this day she still did not understand why she had fallen for him. He was everything that she had spent her life running from. Sheldon was passionate, slightly mad and had an undisciplined genius which scared her. He never saw the world in the same way as everyone else, and in a Federation university, this often meant that things would get interesting. He often dragged her into one mess after another, but he always took the brunt of the unwanted attention from the professors and the administrators himself. Sheldon always protected her. That was another thing she had never understood, why he always found time to spend with her, someone who was as adverse to trouble as he was drawn to it.

After he decided to take more direct action against the Federation, they had parted company. She suspected that he had done it to protect her again.

_Why is it that I am always attracted to men who are bad for me? _The professor sighed. Sheldon and Avon were polar opposites of each other, but in some ways, they were very similar. Each had a genius which scared her and both had the kind of strong-willed and independent spirit which bristled under Federation control.

"I am looking for Sheldon Grene," she told the man. "You may know him as the Shell."

The man made a gesture with his hand, palm faced down.

She looked at him puzzled.

The man almost laughed. _If you're an example of Federation Security forces now, they must be really hard up. Which means that you aren't one and that means that you're either ignorant or an idiot._

"Don't tell me, you're an old friend of his and you haven't seen him in along time," he remarked.

"Yes, how did you know?" she asked.

"No one who knew him now, would be stupid enough to shout his name out loud like you just did," he told her.

"I don't frequent these places often," she told him, red with embarrassment.

"I'd say you've never been to one before at all," he remarked sarcastically.

"Can you help me?" she asked.

"Why should I?" he countered. His whole attitude added another comment. _You're not one of us._

"I need his help," she persisted. "We used to be close once."

The bar owner regarded her with interest. He had identified that she was no threat and he had to admire her courage in venturing into a place which clearly made her feel very uncomfortable.

_This could be interesting, I haven't had any excitement today and it would serve him right for tricking me with the combination gambit yesterday._

"Alright sit over there and wait," he told her, indicating an alcove in the far corner. "Do you want anything to drink?" he asked.

"Some white wine," she told him as she headed over to the indicated place.

_Definitely not one of us_, the owner thought. _How did the Shell hook up with a cold fish like you? This might be fun. _The bar owner's tag name was the T-Maker, as in the Troublemaker, and for good reason.

There was something about her eyes though, something interesting. She may be ignorant of his world, but she had an intelligence which was hard to hide.

Professor Tyler sat and waited. She took a sip of the wine and almost spit it out; it did not taste like any wine she was familiar with. It did not taste like any beverage she was familiar with at all.

Putting the offending liquid down, she observed the activity around her with a mixture of curiosity and nervousness.

_I hope you get here soon Shel_, she thought. She was not liking some of the looks she was getting from some of the other denizens of the bar.

* * *

"Brena." A soft voice came from behind her; it sent shivers down her spine.

"Shel." _Even after all these years, you still have the same effect on me._

The man came around and sat opposite her. Though he looked older, with greying hair and lines on his face indicating the stress of the last few years, he still had the same air of intensity and passion. The wildness had been tamed somewhat, though she suspected that it was more a front. His short-cropped hair surprised her; in the old days, he liked to wear his hair medium-length and it always seemed to be beyond his ability to control. He wore non-descript black pants and a plain dark brown heavy shirt. Sheldon had always been very plain about his clothing, leaning towards dark earth tones, which was in contrast to his personality.

"I would have kissed you but I know how you are about public displays, though it wasn't always that way," he teased her.

"And you are the same old Shel," she countered with mock disapproval.

"The one and only," he replied with a captivating grin.

_Yes, you are_, thought Tyler. _I have to stay focussed, or I'll get sucked in again.

* * *

_

The last time the smuggler Lantro had regret about anything, was when he trusted the Shovoans. Since then, he had no regrets about anything he did. He still didn't, but he was glad that he would be able to do something for Jenna. It wasn't really much of a favour, since she had just helped him greatly in proposing this plan which would help wipe out the enemies he had hated for so long.

"I will do it without a fee," Lantro told Jenna as he and the two women shared their last evening meal together. They would reach their destination tomorrow and he would have to deliver them to the utiliser. "I give you my word Jenna, the Amagons and those treacherous thieves will be at each other's throats within a couple of weeks and they won't even know why. By the time I'm finished with them, there won't be anything of them left."

"Be careful though," Jenna told him, "don't let the Federation find out what you're doing. They'll come down hard on you if they find out that you are the one responsible for disrupting the trade lanes by stirring up trouble."

"We've been getting around them for years, don't worry about me. Just worry about yourself. I honestly don't know what the utiliser has in store for you. I never asked. If you do survive, and you don't want to kill me first, you're always welcome to come back and join in the fun."

"I might take you up on that."

"Which?"

"I guess you'll just have to find out."

They smiled at each other. Cally thought it was strange that they were talking about the potential of killing each other with such humour.

_Must be another one of those smuggler things, I won't understand_, Cally thought.

Afterwards, back in their cell, Cally asked her companion, "Do you trust him to do what he says?"

"Yes. He made a promise, that's his guarantee," Jenna assured her. "He will not let anything stand in the way of keeping that promise; just as he will not let anything stand in his way of keeping his commission of delivering us to the utiliser. Besides, he has a vested interest in destroying the Shovoans."

_You are much more bloodthirsty than during the Liberator days_, thought Cally. _But then, I didn't really know you that well then._

The Auron had mainly kept quiet the last couple of weeks as Jenna worked on Lantro. Cally had admired the other woman's ability to manipulate the smuggler, even though she did not understand half of what her companion was saying.

Cally was normally very patient but she was getting restless with the lack of activity, and could not wait until they reached their destination. She was eager to find out who had commissioned for Jenna to be kidnapped.


	12. Chapter 12

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Fighting Back**

Chapter Twelve

"How long has this man been a prisoner?" asked Sheldon. They were still in the bar, except that now it was closed. The bar owner had joined them as Professor Tyler told them of the nameless prisoner.

"It's hard to tell," she told them, "we're never allowed to communicate with him except about the project."

"Bren, I'm surprised at you," said Sheldon. He never judged her but she could tell that he was disappointed.

"You don't have to tell me. I know it was wrong to use him like that, but none of us had a choice," she told him. "I never knew how important my project was to the Federation until this happened. I do take responsibility for it though, that's why I'm here. I want to help him but I don't know how."

"It's outrageous that they could do this to anyone," said the bar owner, looking very outraged. Professor Tyler did not know his name, but she knew now that everyone called him the T-Man or the T-Maker, depending on how they felt about him.

"You always warned me about the Federation, Shel, and I never really listened," said Tyler.

"It was always more like a game to you Bren," said Sheldon, "but that was a product of your upbringing."

She bristled at that, Sheldon was always brutally honest. Being brought up in an alpha graded household had always seemed like a disadvantage when relating with him.

"Why did you want to know how long he's been a prisoner? Will that help?" she asked.

"No. It's just my curiosity. I would like to know who the Federation President would go to so much trouble to keep like this," Sheldon told her. "And from what you say, he is a true genius. There can't be many of those around."

_You're just being modest_, thought Tyler. That was one of the things she had always loved about him.

"From the way he was able to adapt the comp-puz into four dimensions and use it in the way you described reminds me of someone," he told her, "but there are rumours that he is dead now. Though there are always all kinds of rumours about him."

"Who?" she asked.

"I won't say anything just yet," he told her, "it's safer that way. Central Security is everywhere now after the alien invasion and Star One got blown up. They're paranoid about any kind of reference to something which can prove a threat to security. The moment we mention his name, all kinds of flags will go up."

The T-Man nodded knowingly.

"I'll check with a few friends discreetly," Shel said. "And I'll get in contact with a couple of people who can help us."

"I'll do some checking too," said the bar owner.

"In the meantime, don't do anything different," Sheldon told her. "And let's not meet here again. I'll give you a burst transmitter. The next time we meet, I will send you the details and instructions on the meet. Unfortunately it may take awhile; I'm involved in a major operation right now. We're going to give the Federation Banking System a few headaches."

_This sounds like old times_, thought Tyler, _I don't know if that's a good thing._

"Just like old times?" he asked her.

"Except we're a lot older now, and the stakes are much higher," she told him. He still had the same enthusiasm she remembered from their old days together. In a few short hours, she remembered why she had loved him, and had let him go.

"Yes I must admit, it was a bit like a game to me too, in the old days," Sheldon admitted to her. "Then I got caught."

She nodded; Tyler had never asked him about those days.

The bar owner left them alone as the two reminisced.

* * *

"How is the engine progressing?" the Federation President asked. The head tech minder was giving her the weekly project progress report and the prisoner's status.

"All the tests with the scaled model were completed earlier this week."They are in the process of building the full scale model now," he reported. "He's working quickly; there have been no major incidents with the prisoner this week."

"No _major_ incidents?" she asked.

"Just the usual," he told her. "He doesn't like being controlled and sometimes tries to be difficult, but you've directed that we not punish him for that, for the time being." He stressed the 'for the time being' part.

"He must be doing better," she reflected. "I imagine that he's becoming more difficult the more he recovers?"

"You guessed correctly Madame President."

_No one knows him better than I do,_ she thought, _but this means that he feels well enough to start making trouble. A well Avon, means a dangerous one._

"And that doesn't sit well with the Centre personnel?"

"No Ma'am, it doesn't."

"Very well, you may begin the punishment protocols again, but only up to level two. I want it carefully monitored and it must not interfere with his work." She knew that any level one punishments would only serve to annoy the analyst and would not be an effective deterrent.

"Yes, Madame President."

The President saw that the man was looking happier than he had any right to be.

"I will not be happy if I hear of any abuse of the protocols Krelis," she warned him.

"Yes Ma'am, you have my reassurance on that score."

"Have the weakening drugs returned to normal strength and do not let him know that the protocols have been reinstated. Let him find out the next time he becomes difficult," she told him.

"Of course, Madame President," said Krelis. This woman knew a lot about control.

"I will send the directive to the Centre regarding the change in the protocols."

"Thank you Madame President, that will make our jobs easier," the minder told her.

"Now I want to know what the plans are for the testing of the full scale model."

* * *

The smuggler guards were removing the detonator restraints and collar from Jenna and Cally while Lantro watched.

Jenna looked at Lantro quizzically.

Guessing what she was thinking, the smuggler leader informed the two women, "The utiliser never paid to make it easier for him."

She nodded in appreciation.

"Let's go," he led the way out of the cell as the guards followed with their prisoners.

The party boarded the landing shuttle and headed down to the planet. Being strapped into seats in the rear compartment, facing the back of the shuttle, Cally and Jenna still could not tell where they were going.

"This is Lantro, calling the utiliser. Confirming rendezvous at coordinates received on last communication. Confirmation code overlord zero zero one."

A few seconds later, there was a reply, "Confirmed from utiliser, no change in coordinates, and reply code overlord one zero zero. See you when you arrive."

_Overlord?_ Jenna was starting to get an idea who would want to kidnap her.

* * *

The guards unstrapped the women from their seats and motioned them to move, even as the shuttle door opened.

"Keep them out of sight until I tell you to bring them down," Lantro directed the guards. They nodded. The smuggler leader walked down the shuttle steps, followed by the twin smuggler guards and disappeared from their view.

"You have them?"

In the shuttle, they could all hear the voices from the outside, though they could not catch every word. From the sound of the voice, Jenna knew that her guess had been correct. _Then we have a chance. We are more useful alive, at least for now. (We won't be killed, at least not right away.)_

"Yes, you have the payment?" Lantro asked. They could hear the sound of footsteps and then an object hitting the ground. Other footsteps followed.

"Satisfactory?" asked the utiliser.

"Satisfactory," replied Lantro. In a louder voice, he commanded, "Bring them out." The guards gestured for the two women to go down the steps.

They were brought to position just behind Lantro.

Jenna said calmly, "Ellis."

"Jenna." It was the middle son of the dead Overlord, Feltar Reve, of the Athol Territories; the territory out in Sector Ten which was currently embroiled in a damaging civil war. Ellis Reve was the most devious of the Overlord's three sons.

"Sorry for the rude invitation but I didn't think you would come if I just asked," he told her.

"And you would be right," she told him coldly. Of the Overlord's three ambitious sons, she would have preferred to deal with the oldest son, Kam or the youngest, Borel.

Ellis smiled and nodded his head to the contingent of guards behind him.

"Good luck," Lantro said softly to them, as Ellis's guards approached the smugglers and took charge of the prisoners.

_So this is about political pressure_, she thought. _Things must not be going well; else he would not be resorting to this.

* * *

_

"They weren't down there," Vila told Argus.

Vila had just returned from his trip to Gelentrix to meet Jenna and Cally at the pre-arranged rendezvous point.

"I waited a whole hour," he stressed.

Argus was no longer wearing the sling but his right shoulder was still tender, mainly due to the fact that he had tried to push the rehab exercises and ended up setting back his own recovery.

Vila had been unusually accommodating and responsible since Argus had taken the shot meant for the thief.

_If I had known that this was all it took, I would have gotten myself shot earlier and not messed around with the dispenser codes_, thought Argus

There was currently only one working alcohol dispenser, since Vila had dismantled the other ones, trying to get past the dispenser codes.

Of course, Argus didn't point out that if he hadn't dragged the thief into the mission in the first place, his life would not have been in danger.

"Zen, send a message to Jenna using the pre-arranged transmission frequency," Argus addressed the ship's computer interface. "Tell her that we waited at the rendezvous and are now proceeding to the secondary rendezvous point. We will contact them in five days time, as agreed, from the time this message is sent. Give her the timestamp of sending."

"Confirmed. Message has been sent," said the tired-sounding computer voice.

Argus crossed over to ORAC and activated the transmitter Avon had built to communicate with the computer unit in lieu of the activation key which Servalan had confiscated.

"ORAC, command code gamma two delta three six four."

"Yes, what is it?" ORAC said impatiently.

"Do a broad sweep of accessible communication channels on Gelentrix, I want to know if there is any unusual activity which may indicate that Jenna and Cally are in trouble."

"Very well," the computer acknowledged. For some reason, ORAC always managed to sound as if any task given it by the crew was taking it away from its own more important tasks.

Well, to be fair, at the moment ORAC was involved in a very important task. Several hours ago, before the _Justice_ had arrived above Gelentrix, It had received the communication from the ASP which Avon had sent. It was in the process of following Avon's instructions and was trying to arrange conditions which would result in rescuing the analyst, again, and doing it without informing the crew directly. ORAC did not know why Avon would give this illogical directive but it did as ordered.

* * *

The work on the full-scale model was finally complete and all the tests run successfully. Ignoring the minders, the researchers had thanked the analyst as they took their final leave. Technically they would not be meeting again. The final tests for the full-scale model would be done at a remote testing area, near Pacifica Dome. Of course, that was not the researchers plan, but they were careful not to give any indication that they expected to see the analyst again.

* * *

Avon lay on the ground in one of the interrogation rooms with his hands bound behind him. He was coughing painfully and spitting out blood, even as the interrogators pulled him back up. Two of them held him on either side, while a third, wearing hardened gloves, struck him repeatedly in the back with his fist, each blow making it harder for him to breathe.

They were not alone. Off to the side, seated on a comfortable chair sat the Federation President. Behind her was the attendant medtech.

By the time he thought that they certainly broken his back, the torturers released him and he crumpled to the ground again. These physical pain specialists were very good; there had been no damage to his spine, only numerous painful bruises and broken bones, and painful but reversible internal damage. Throughout the beating, he fought to remain silent; refusing to show weakness before his enemy, but it was difficult, he was sure the last couple of strikes had broken another rib. His breathing was in short agonized gasps as he lay on the cold, hard floor of the interrogation room.

In the last few weeks of the phase engine project, Avon had found out that the punishment protocols had changed and that he was feeling much weaker. Instead of ignoring his acts of insolence and rebellion, they had started punishing him again; but they had not brought him to the interrogation rooms, until now. The weakness meant that they had also changed the dosage on the drugs he was injected with daily.

The moment the project had finished and the researchers had packed up everything and left, the guards had immediately brought him to this interrogation room, where Servalan had been waiting for him. She had not said a single word and only nodded to the interrogators to begin. That was four hours ago. She had watched and directed the actions of the interrogators, but she did not speak to him.

"Enough," she said finally as Avon lay on the ground again coughing and bleeding.

The interrogators let go of the prisoner and stepped back, they had been about to lift him to his feet again for another bout.

"Thank you gentlemen, you may leave," she told them.

As the interrogators left, the medtech bent down and checked the prisoner.

The medtech reported. "He should be able to talk."

"Alright, help him sit up and you may go as well," Servalan told him. "Turn the security monitors off," she directed the security observers in the control booth. She did not say another word until the red operation lights on each camera went out.

The medtech pulled Avon carefully up and propped him against the wall before he also left.

Avon coughed again, spitting out blood. When the coughing stopped, he leaned back painfully against the wall. He winced from the bruises on his back. The analyst looked at Servalan and waited. She had still not said a word to him.

"Was watching them beat me not satisfying enough, or haven't you decided yet?" he asked, his voice full of cynicism. He was trying not to move too much as he spoke.

"You brought this on yourself Avon. It has been building up for a long time," she finally spoke to him. "You know that your minders and the guards do not like being provoked, and I had not allowed them to punish you while were recovering. They were getting very frustrated."

"So you are here to ensure employee satisfaction? That hardly sounds like you."

Servalan laughed at his phrasing.

"I have missed you," she told him. "The timing was just unfortunate. My visit would have been a lot more pleasant for you if you had not angered your minders."

"Your idea of pleasant usually means less pain, not no pain. And you were just trying to be helpful when you were directing the interrogators earlier?"

Servalan smiled.

Avon coughed again and grimaced. The pain from his ribs was sharp.

"The real reason I am here is because I want to show my appreciation for your work on the phase-TD engine. Sester has been nagging me to give you at least one day of real rest. Once the med unit has tended to your wounds, you will be given that. I will direct the security observers to leave you alone for the day and that you are to be given the drugs which prevent the nightmares."

She didn't tell him that the psychostrategist had made the request to give the analyst some rest, months ago, long before Avon's heart had almost collapsed from the use of the Shredder.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked her suspiciously.

"You have done the Federation an immeasurable service in the success of the phase engine and my personal financial empire will benefit greatly."

The knowledge of that was worse than the torture he had undergone in the past four hours; and now she was giving him time to contemplate it.

* * *

At the Special Detention Centre, Avon had never been allowed to relax. Every minute of his time was monitored and controlled and any sign of relaxation would signal a beating by the guards or removal to an interrogation room.

Even a simple act like enjoying a cup of water was not allowed. Whenever he was fed, he had to eat and drink quickly and without any reaction. At first, it had been hard not to react to the foul-tasting gruel which was the only source of solid food they allowed him but being beaten for gruel had not seemed worth the fight. And they always forced him to eat it after beating him anyways. He learned to block out the taste.

After a few hours of 'real' rest in the empty cell, Avon was going crazy with boredom. Having all of this free time was strange and made him feel increasingly restless. Memories of the last few years kept surfacing, beyond his control. It was not the familiar horrifying nightmares which haunted him, these were different, they were real memories of things which had happened to him and things which had been done to him.

He realized that this was most likely a by-product of the regular use of the conditioning which forced his mind to think.

The analyst tried to keep his mind occupied; he began thinking about how ORAC was going to manage rescuing him and what he could do to facilitate its plans. He also wondered what Professor Tyler had been up to during the game with the comp-puz. It was clear that the woman had a hidden agenda, but that had been weeks ago, the researchers were now gone, and there had been no action indicating what that agenda was.

After half a day of this, he could not stand the isolation anymore or the memories which seemed to surface beyond his control, he asked the guards to return him to the lab.


	13. Chapter 13

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Fighting Back**

Chapter Thirteen

"Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find out any information about this prisoner," Sheldon Grene said to Brena as they met in an unused back cubicle of a sensory park for kids at Pacifica Dome. "I've used all of my normal channels and some risky ones, but it's like he doesn't exist. The T-Man hasn't had any luck either."

"I could have told you that," she said to him. "They've gone to a great deal of trouble to control him and to keep him a secret. I suspect that they intend to place mind blocks on all of us once the final tests for the engine are complete."

"They've said that?" he asked.

"No, but that's the impression I'm getting."

"Then we have to get him out before that. How are your plans progressing?"

"I think we've successfully given the impression of great frustration. I've already suggested that we send the results of the tests back to the prisoner for analysis but they will realize soon that it won't be very helpful without him actually being onsite."

"Bren, you have missed your true calling," said Shel.

"You were a good teacher."

He reached across and took her right hand in his, she did not pull away.

"Bren, other than guilt, is there another reason why you're risking your life and your career to do this?" he asked, surprising her. "You realize that if this goes wrong, your life will be over. You will probably end up with your memory wiped. I doubt if they'll kill you though, you're too valuable for that."

"That's a great comfort," she told him, pulling her hand away from him.

"Then why are you doing this?"

"I'm not sure." The professor was confused; as with Sheldon, she found it difficult to sort out her own feelings towards the prisoner. Had she fallen for this brilliant nameless man? What made it even more confusing were her unresolved feelings for Sheldon. When he was near, it was hard for her to think objectively.

Shel looked at her; there was a hint of faint amusement on his face.

_You never did understand your own heart Bren. You still don't._

He left her instructions. "Let me know the moment they arrange to bring him onsite. Use the burst transmitter and the code I gave you. We're only going to get one shot at this so we have to be ready. I will make preparations and arrange for a group of more able-bodied types to help us."

* * *

Since boarding Ellis Reve's ship, Jenna and Cally had been well treated, although they were constantly kept under heavy guard. They were separated and confined in comfortable adjoining cabins on board.

After two days of no apparent activity, Jenna approached the guards stationed outside her door and demanded, "I want to see Ellis."

Several hours later, the ex-smuggler was brought to what appeared to be an operations room adjacent to the flight deck. Ellis was standing beside a large table, poring over a tactical star-map projected over the table and consulting with a man she could not identify but appeared to be someone Ellis respected. She recognized the faintly gridded holo-map; it was the area of Sector Ten containing the Athol Territories.

"The prisoner, sir," one of her guards reported as they stopped in front of the table. The Overlord's middle son did not seem to have heard him and only continued with what he was doing.

"What is the idea of having me kidnapped and then ignoring me?" asked Jenna. She did not like being ignored.

Ellis looked up at her; he appeared startled to see her.

Ellis Reve was short, stocky and a dangerously ruthless man. He always gave the impression that he had something more important to do, today was no different. Of the three brothers, he was the most devious and the most likely to resort to unexpected and underhanded tricks.

He told her distractedly, "I'm sorry Jenna, as you can see, I've been busy."

"Why did you have me kidnapped and then just lock me up and ignore me? You could at least have the decency to tell me what you want from me," she told him with a calm, steady voice which at the same time conveyed her anger.

"You're right, it was very rude of me to have you brought here and not tell you why," he told her, "but it's not really about you. It's about Rane."

"Rane?" Olean Rane was the dead Overlord's chamberlain and currently held what was left of the Athol government together while the sons battled for control. He was also a close friend of Jenna's. "You're a fool Ellis, Rane would never give you control of the government just because of me."

"I think you underestimate your value Jenna," he said to her. "That's a charming quality in a woman," he added, knowing it would make her even angrier. "I don't plan to ask him that though. There are more interesting possibilities now that I have you here. Possibilities my dear brothers would never have thought of."

Ellis possessed a degree of devious that confounded most people.

"Do you plan to tell me these possibilities?"

"No. Unlike most people who have the advantage, I do not have a burning desire to tell people how clever I am. Now be a good prisoner and go back to your cabin." He looked back at the holo-map.

"What about Cally? You don't need her, let her go," Jenna told him, ignoring the guards who were motioning her to move.

Ellis looked back at her again. "Oh yes, I had forgotten about your friend. Unfortunately, she gets to stay too, as a guarantee against your good behaviour. Was there anything else?" He was starting to get impatient at be interrupted in the middle of an important planning session.

"I'd like to see her," Jenna told him. "I got her into this; she deserves to know what is happening."

Jenna could see that he was weighing the dangers of allowing the two of them together. "Very well," he told her. Ellis instructed the guards accompanying her, "Put them together in one of the larger cabins."

"Thank you," she told him as the guards gestured for her to move.

* * *

After the guards had installed them in the new larger cabin, Jenna told Cally about her conversation with Ellis.

"He will not tell you what his plans are?" Cally asked.

"No, but knowing him, he has thought out everything very carefully. He must have good reason to believe that holding me will give him an advantage. I wish we had someone like Avon or Tess here."

"Why is that?" asked Cally, surprised at the sudden change in topic.

"They left us with a computer here that is linked to the ship's general internal network but it has all kinds of controls on it to prevent us from accessing the ship's systems. Avon or Tess could probably have broken through those."

"Then we'll just have to find our own way," Cally told her.

* * *

Argus was getting worried. This time it was the rebel leader who had gone down to the pre-arranged secondary rendezvous point and still Jenna and Cally had not made contact. Scouting the wooded area near the remote inn, which had been the rendezvous point, had yielded nothing. The two women had left no indication that they had ever been there. He waited another hour then called Vila on the wristcomm, "Vila teleport."

As he shimmered back onto the ship, Vila immediately remarked, "You didn't find them, did you? I'm getting a bad feeling about this."

"I am too Vila. Has ORAC found out anything?"

"It keeps saying it's busy and not to bother it," Vila told him.

"Don't let ORAC boss you around Vila," Argus told him. Of course, he ignored the fact that he only had slightly more luck with ORAC than the thief did.

"Do you think I like being pushed around by an overgrown calculator?" asked Vila indignantly.

"What's a calculator?" asked the rebel leader.

Vila had heard Avon use the term once when he was particularly frustrated with the recalcitrant computer.

"Actually, I have no idea," said the thief.

* * *

Explosions rocked the ship while Jenna and Cally were going over their plans to escape. Immediately alarms began sounding. A second, stronger set of explosions sent them both crashing to the ground.

"What was that?" exclaimed Jenna as she stood up, rubbing her arm where it had hit the table.

"Sounds like explosives of some kind," replied Cally.

They heard another loud bang and felt the ship shift; they appeared to have been hit by something big.

"We're nowhere near Sector Ten, we can't be in the war zone yet," Jenna told her companion.

The alarms sounded and the speaker system came on and announced, "All personnel to assigned defence stations, we are being boarded."

"Boarded!" both women exclaimed in shock.

The speaker came on again, "Repeat, all personnel to assigned defence stations; we are being boarded. Ready all combat weapons."

"This confusion may be a useful distraction. Let's see if our plan works," Cally went over to the door. "Jenna, they're gone," said the Auron in surprise when she found that the guards normally stationed at their door had disappeared. "They must have gone to their defensive stations."

"Well that doesn't help us." They needed the guards in order to open the door.

* * *

Argus took another trip down to Gelentrix, this time to find the Rat, an intermediary Jenna had said she was going to use in order to find some contacts.

The Rat was a middle-aged, sloop-shouldered man with hygiene a real rat would have been ashamed of. Jenna had told the rebel leader that the Rat was an unprincipled coward, but he supposedly knew everyone worth knowing in the smuggler world and had personal contacts with the most of the major ones. He was always dependable when it came to his business, but his reliability on everything else was open to interpretation. Jenna had warned Argus to be very wary of the Rat.

"Who were you looking for again?" the Rat asked. He had a distracted and nervous look. The way his nose moved, reminded Argus a lot of a real rat. They were in the back room of the Rat's small odds and ends shop.

"Jenna Stannis," Argus said again. "She would have contacted you about a month ago, looking for a smuggler named Lantro."

_He's stalling_, thought Argus, _he's either trying to figure out what to do or he's waiting for something to happen. Both of which are not good for me. _

In either case, that meant that he had to act quickly.

_There is nothing subtle about this rat, let's see what a more forceful approach will accomplish._

Argus's actions were so deceptively smooth and quick that, the Rat barely had time to register that the sharp end of a stiletto was now pressed against his throat. He could feel that the tip had just barely punctured the skin. The man's speed and control were so shocking that the Rat was instantly terrified.

"Stannis, I remember now," the Rat said quickly and in a shaky voice, trying to placate this dangerous man with a knife to his throat. He was very careful not to move. "She was here. She wanted me to hook her up with Lantro."

"You're not telling me anything I haven't already told you," said Argus warningly, pressing the blade just a touch harder against the man's throat. A dot of red appeared at the tip. His voice had a dangerous low tone and the calmness of a man who was intimately acquainted with both sides of death.

"Ok, ok…Lantro gave me a contact location and I passed it to her. That's the last time I saw her. She's probably with him now."

"There's something else you're not telling me," Argus warned. His sense of danger was working overtime as well as his impression that this man was hiding something.

"I swear that's all I know. I'm only a go-between; I'm not involved in anything beyond arranging for meets."

"You may not be involved, but I'll bet that doesn't mean that you don't know." The rebel leader pressed the edge of the blade in a little further, causing a thin line of blood to drip down the man's throat.

"Alright, alright, before Jenna came to see me, Lantro was already looking for her. He had asked me to locate her two months ago; he never told me why. You can imagine my shock when she walked into my shop after I had expended so much energy and resources trying to find her. After that, all I had to do was contact Lantro and arrange for the meet. Honestly, I don't know anything else. I don't even know if she went to the meet."

Argus removed the stiletto from the man's throat. The Rat rubbed the spot where the blade punctured him. He appeared to be ill when he removed his hand and saw the blood which he had just wiped off.

_He must be one of those who are afraid of seeing blood, _thought Argus. He said quickly, trying to draw the man's attention to something else before he fainted, "I want to commission you to arrange a meet with Lantro. I will pay your normal fee."

At the sound of a business opportunity, the Rat was instantly focussed on Argus's commission. They made the arrangements quickly.

"I don't mind if you warn Lantro that I'm looking for Jenna," said Argus from the doorway as he prepared to leave. He already knew that the Rat would do that the moment he left, and he wanted the man to know that he knew. With that he exited.

* * *

Jenna and Cally were pacing the cabin in frustration. They had not heard sounds of explosions or pulse rifle fire in at least ten minutes.

The door to the cabin slid open, the two women turned as one towards the entrance.

"Hello Jenna, do you need a lift?" asked a grinning Olean Rane. He was dressed in dark fatigues and carrying a heavy pulse pistol.

"Rane!" Jenna exclaimed. With the grin on his face, she wasn't sure whether she wanted to slap him or hug him. "I assume that you are the one responsible for all the excitement?" she asked him before settling on giving him a brief but warm hug.

"Thought you might like a little help," he told her. "Not that you need it of course." He turned to her companion, "Hello Cally, I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner."

"There is no need to apologize, you are a welcome sight."

"How did you know we were here?" asked Jenna.

"The boys tend to forget that I was also the head of Feltar's secret service," he told her. "The service remained loyal to me after the boys decided to fight it out to become the next Overlord. The Service has been keeping track of their activities since this all began. I also have Feltar's personal Guard unit and the division he tasked to me to do special tasks for him. I had to use all of them to rescue you. So that should make us even."

"More than even," she told him.

"We'd better leave now, but we need to make one more trip, to the flight deck," he told her.

* * *

Ellis Reve was livid. He looked angrily at his father's former special Guards who were now holding him prisoner on his own flag ship.

Rane, Jenna and Cally entered the flight deck. This did not improve the man's mood and he scowled at them. "What is the idea of attacking me Rane? I thought you had agreed to stay neutral?"

Rane addressed the would-be overlord, "That was before you tried to use my friends as pressure on me. I'm surprised at you Ellis; you should know me well enough to know that I do not respond well to threats against people who are important to me." The hardness in his face and the tone in his voice made it very clear that this was no veiled threat.

He continued, "I am not here to kill you or to stop you. Once we leave, you are free to do whatever plotting you were doing before to defeat your brothers, but you will not touch Jenna or Cally again. They are off-limits in your civil war. If you try anything like this again, I will hunt you down personally and kill you, and I will make sure you never assume leadership over the Territories. You know me well enough to know that is a certainty, not just a threat. Do you understand or am I being too subtle for you?"

This was not the Rane who was Jenna's friend; he was the coldblooded soldier whom the Overlord of the Athol Territories had depended on to do his dirty work in order to keep the other warlords in line.

"Understood." Ellis inclined his head but they could tell he was still angry. "Now get off my ship!"

* * *

"You're going to have trouble with that one," Cally told the chamberlain as they sat on the flight deck of Rane's ship. It was a fast cruiser which was part of the fleet of the former Overlord's Guard unit. The Guard had some of the most advanced ships and weapons in the Athol Territories.

"I know, don't worry about me Cally. I'm already gathering resources who are willing to work with me to protect the Territories. I haven't been able to stop the civil war, but with my own people, we've been able to curb some of the excesses."

"You're worried," stated Jenna. Even though Rane was still his confident self, Jenna could tell that something was bothering him.

"You always knew me well."

"Is it Ellis?"

"I'm not sure. The last couple of months, we've been trying to do what we can to keep things running and prevent the war from escalating out of control but it seems that for every action we take, something else comes up. It's almost like there is some other force at work but every time I think I'm close to finding out…nothing."

"I'd like to offer my help," Jenna told him.

"I don't want to drag you into our civil war Jenna. It's not your fight. And you don't owe me anything."

"You need someone good at devious plots, I'm offering. Don't be so stubborn."

"You never could take no for an answer, could you?"

"No."

They both laughed. "It will be good to be fighting together again," he told her.

"I would also like to offer my aid, although I am not good at devious plots," Cally told Rane.

"You are also welcome, Cally," Rane told her.

"I'd like to send a message to Argus on the _Justice_," Jenna told Rane.

* * *

"We were on our way to a rendezvous with that smuggler friend of yours, Lantro," said Argus to Jenna, who was currently appearing on the large view screen on the flight deck of the _Justice_.

"We're currently on our way to Sector Ten," Jenna told him.

"Sector Ten?" asked a startled Argus, "but the rendezvous was supposed to be at Englar."

"I'm confused," said Vila, who was standing behind Argus's shoulder.

The look on the rebel leader's face also reflected Vila's confusion.

"Sorry, I should have specified, Cally and I are on our way with Rane to Sector Ten," explained Jenna. "We've agreed to help him with some problems he is having out there."

"Olean Rane? You mean you've gotten Lantro to help out in Sector Ten rather than arranging to disrupt the trade lanes as you had originally planned?"

"No. No. He is still going to disrupt the trade lanes, but he's going to do that on his own. Meanwhile Cally and I were rescued by Rane, so we're on our way with him to Athol. It's a long story," Jenna told them. She turned her head to look at someone behind her, she appeared to be listening. Turning her head back to face them, she told him, "Rane said that we can meet you halfway, he will send you the coordinates."

Argus was about to make a comment about communication, and ask why the two women had needed rescuing and how Olean Rane fit into the picture, but thought it would be better explained when they met up again. "Alright, in the meantime, I will cancel the arranged meeting with Lantro."

"Information, coordinates have been received from Olean Rane," the Zen computer informed the crew.

"Zen, have the navigation computers plot the fastest course to the coordinates specified which will not cross into Sector One space, speed standard by six," instructed Argus.

"Coordinates and speed confirmed," Zen acknowledged.

"We'll meet you at the new rendezvous coordinates," Argus told Jenna, _"Justice_ out."

* * *

Sheldon, Professor Tyler and the T-Man were meeting with a group of hard-looking types, whose common characteristic seemed to be several days' growth of beard. They wore clothing more commonly associated with the labour grades. The meeting place Sheldon had set up was the residence of one of the group which was in delta graded neighbourhood in the Pacifica Dome. None of those present were delta grades but they found it a useful place to hide. There were many disaffected labour grades sympathetic to the rebel cause here and the delta neighbourhoods tended to be close-knit. They instantly spotted any strangers in their midst and would be able to warn them.

Brena Tyler was speaking to the group, "They're transporting him to the site in three days time. Additional security measures are being arranged."

"Do you know the route they're taking?" asked Sheldon.

"No, they only informed us when he was due to arrive."

"Can you draw a detailed map of the testing facility and particularly the surrounding area?" asked one of the hard-looking men in a wrinkled labour-grade jumpsuit.

"That I can do," she replied.

"Good, then probably the best time to hit would be just as they are arriving but before they come into the protection of the security measures at the facility."

"Agreed," said Sheldon. "Bren, you better get back to the testing facility. We don't want anyone to get suspicious."

* * *

After meeting up at the arranged rendezvous point, Argus, Jenna, Cally, Vila and Olean Rane convened aboard the _Justice_.

"So that's what happened," said Argus, as Jenna finished telling them about the events which transpired after she and Cally had been dropped off at Gelentrix, and their subsequent encounter with Lantro and Ellis.

"Yes, and we've agreed to help Rane because there appears to be something suspicious going on there, and I thought we might be able to lend a hand. How did your plans go?"

"Ture's friends should be starting to give Central Security a few headaches by now," Argus replied. "We'd like to give you a hand out in Sector Ten as well," Argus told Rane,"don't we Vila?"

"Yes, there's nothing I'd rather do than go into a war zone when I have nothing else to do," replied Vila.

"I promise not to get you killed," said Argus.

"Oh no you don't, you're not making that promise again," said Vila.

"Vila says, he'd love to help you," Argus told them.

"I know I'm going to regret this but, yes I'd love to help you," said Vila. "And no more locking of the alcohol dispensers," he told Argus.

"We'll discuss that."

Cally, Jenna and Rane were perplexed at the exchange between the rebel leader and the thief.

"Information," spoke Zen.

"Yes, what is it Zen?" asked Argus.

"The ORAC unit requests that the command transmitter be turned on," Zen informed them.

"ORAC wants to talk to you?" Jenna asked puzzled. There seemed to be one strange occurrence after another.

"That is correct," replied a tired sounding Zen.

Argus turned the transmitter on. ORAC was still tuned to him as he had not released the command code from the last time he spoke to ORAC.

"ORAC, you wish to talk to me," Argus asked the unit.

"This unit does not have possess human emotions, thus there is no _wish_ to tell you anything."

"Stop being difficult ORAC, Zen said that you requested that the command transmitter be turned on."

"Correct. I have information to relay."

"From whom?"

"The information is from me."

"But I thought you said that you have no wish to tell us anything? Oh never mind," Argus knew that if they got into a battle over words, they would be there for hours, "What is this information?"

"I received information from Avon that he is being held by the Federation. He requested that I generate a plan to rescue him."

"What!?"

"Avon!?"

"How can that be!?"

"Who's Avon?"

They all shouted out at once.

Argus told ORAC,"Avon is dead. How can he be communicating with you?"

"Obviously, he is not dead."

"Then you were wrong about him being dead and we've been running all over the galaxy while he was being held by the Federation?"

"I was not wrong." ORAC refuted, it managed to sound offended. "If you recall, at the time I said that it is highly unlikely that Avon survived and that evidence suggests that he died. Obviously we did not possess all the facts."

"How do we know that it is really Avon?"

"The message contained the command code and frequency."

The crew looked at each other; they all had the same thought.

_Avon is alive._


	14. Chapter 14

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Fighting Back**

Chapter Fourteen

"We have to rescue him," Cally told them as they were all gathered on the flight deck, trying to digest the information that someone whom they had thought was dead, was very much alive.

"I think we're all thinking the same thing," Jenna reassured her.

"Yes, even me," said Vila, "though I couldn't tell you why."

Argus addressed ORAC,"Where is Avon being held?"

"Avon is currently at the Federation Special Detention Centre."

The crew looked at each other; they all knew what that meant. That was where Avon had been held prisoner before, when Argus's WED group had accidently rescued him. They knew that the Federation had done terrible things to him there.

"It's going to be virtually impossible to break him out of there without more people, and they've probably increased security so that it won't happen again," said Argus. The last time they had broken into the Detention Centre was to rescue Argus. Then they had the resources of half a dozen of the ex-military rebel groups at their disposal.

So far, Olean Rane had been quiet but now he spoke up, "I can help you there Argus, I can lend you some of my own people."

"You have your own troubles," Jenna told him.

"Jenna, all of you are willing to embroil yourselves in a civil war which does not concern you, let me return the favour," Rane told her.

"I have not finished," ORAC told them irritably. After ORAC had given them the information that Avon was alive, they had ignored the computer and started talking among themselves.

"What other information do you have ORAC?" Argus asked.

"I have obtained information that Avon will be transported to a remote testing facility near Pacifica Dome. In two days time."

"Two days time! Why didn't you tell us earlier?" exclaimed Argus. He addressed the ship's computer, "Zen, have the navigation computers plot us a course to Earth immediately."

They all looked at him; it was not like Argus to rush in before formulating a plan first.

He explained, "It will be a lot easier to rescue Avon while he is being transported to Pacifica rather than at the Detention Centre."

Zen reported, "Requested course has been plotted."

"How long will it take us to reach Earth at standard by ten?"

"It will take thirty seven hours at the specified speed."

"Rane, you should return to your ship. We're leaving right now."

"Don't leave until I transfer over a group of my men to help you."

"Thank you."

"Good luck."

Jenna followed Rane out towards the teleport room.

Argus continued to question the computer unit,"ORAC, I don't suppose you know the route they will be using to transport Avon?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," replied ORAC.

"Then it's time to make a few plans," said Argus.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Jenna returned.

"Rane lent us twenty of Feltar's Elite Guard. I've put them in the empty living quarters. They're waiting for orders."

Argus nodded. "Alright Zen, follow the plotted course, speed standard by ten. Cally activate the anti-detector screen."

"Confirmed."

The Auron crossed over to Avon's old operations station.

"There is something strange about this," she said, as she checked the operational status of the screen and switched it on.

"You think it's a trap?" asked Jenna, who was seated at the primary flight console.

"It's strange, not suspicious," replied Cally. "It sounds as if ORAC has had this information for along time, but it only chose to tell us now."

"It sounds suspicious to me too," said Vila.

"It's as if Avon told ORAC not to tell us," Cally told them.

"Now why would he do that?" asked Vila. "Do you think it's a plot by the computers?"

"Computers?" asked Cally. Of all of the puzzling things of the past few hours, Vila's comment was the one that confused her the most.

"You know, ORAC and Avon," Vila said.

"You never change," Jenna told the thief.

* * *

"The security precautions must be airtight Krelis," the Federation President told the senior tech minder over her vidcomm. "The prisoner must not be allowed any opportunities while he is outside the Detention Centre."

"I assure you Madame President; he will have no chance to cause any problems. He has not been told that he is being moved and he will be sedated until he reaches the testing facility outside Pacifica. From his point of view, he will be given his normal sedatives for his regular sleep period and when he wakes up he will find himself already transported to the testing facility. A full security escort will accompany him and he will be conveyed in a sealed transport, even when he is in the air. In addition, since you have reinstated the punishment protocols again and authorized the normal dosage of drugs, he's become much more manageable. It's hard to resist when you don't have the strength or energy to."

"I leave it in your capable hands then."

"Thank you Madame President."

As Servalan turned off her vidscreen in dismissal, she wondered if it was a mistake to allow Avon outside of the Detention Centre despite all the security precautions being taken. She remembered how often in the past Avon had managed to escape her attempts to kill him, or had managed to spoil her plans, regardless of how impossible the situation he found himself in.

Servalan knew that the mind she had taken such great pains to harness could easily be turned against her. All he needed was the opportunity; that was one of the reasons why he was always treated severely whenever he broke the rules they had setup to contain him. For her to be able to use Avon he had to be controlled; otherwise she would have to kill him. He would see any relaxation in their treatment of him as a weakness he could exploit.

With the other things currently going wrong, losing Avon would not be good. For some reason, trade lanes were experiencing major disruptions out in Sector Six. She was going to have to recall the Task Group currently hunting down the _Justice_ and divert them to protect Federation trade interests out there. As well, Servalan had just received a troubling report from Tarvin of Central Security this morning that there was something odd going on with the Federation Banking Systems' security network.

"Corry, get Admiral Ves of Federation Space Command on the comm for me."

* * *

An hour after the ship got under way; the _Justice_ crew was gathered around the ship's central viewing screen, looking at a topographical map of the route which Avon's security transport would be taking. They had been joined by the commander of the Guard unit Olean Rane had lent them to rescue the analyst.

"We cannot get him while he is in the air but fortunately the testing facility can only be accessed by ground transport once they are near Pacifica."

Argus pointed out two spots on the screen with a laser pointer.

"There are only two points along the ground route which are suitable for our purposes."

Commander Hent nodded, indicating his agreement.

While the military and ex-military commander debated the tactical advantages and disadvantages of the two locations, Jenna, Cally and Vila felt like spectators. The two men seemed to speak in a short-hand only understandable to each other.

"It appears that no matter which location we chose, there will still be risks," said Hent.

"We can decide that after we work out some of the other details."

Argus turned on ORAC's transmitter. "ORAC, do you know what type of vehicle will be used to transport Avon on the ground?"

"Yes, it is a sealed transport truck."

"Sealed? Those are used for high-risk prisoner transports."

"Correct."

"What's wrong Argus?" Jenna asked.

"Sealed transports are thickly shielded, and have a lock which can only be opened by someone inside the vehicle."

"ORAC, am I right to assume that the truck cannot be penetrated by the teleport?"

"Correct."

"How are we going to open it up then?" Jenna asked.

"How about it Vila?" Argus asked the thief.

"I've never had a reason to unlock a sealed transport before," Vila told him. "And opening a lock that is inside in order to get inside doesn't make any sense to me."

"Then you'll just have to open it from the outside," Argus told him.

The look Vila gave Argus seemed to say, _what part of 'inside' don't you get?_

"You aren't going to give one of those, 'Vila, haven't you always wanted a challenge worthy of your skills?' speeches again, are you?" the thief asked.

"You read my mind Vila," Argus told him.

"I was afraid of that." Vila sighed. "I can't believe I'm saying this again but I'm going to need some time with ORAC again, if it has details on the lock," Vila told him.

"ORAC, do you have the technical details on the door locking mechanism for the sealed transport?" Argus addressed the computer.

"I have already obtained the information."

"Wonderful," said Vila, in a voice which indicated that it was not so wonderful tone.

None of them seemed to notice that ORAC seemed to have the information they wanted almost before they had requested it.

"Leave the locking mechanism to me then," Vila told Argus." You concentrate on trying to not getting me killed, and rescuing Avon, of course." _And no more of that pushing me out of the way and taking the shot yourself._

The rebel leader said, "I knew we could count on you."

"And no more locking of the liquor dispensers," Vila added.

"That explains why almost all of them were dismantled when we came back," said Jenna.

"Ask our fearless leader," Vila said, inclining his head at Argus.

"We can discuss that later," said Argus.

Vila was about to protest when Argus added, "After the meeting." The thief fell into a sulky silence.

"My men can take care of the four escort vehicles," said Commander Hent.

Argus nodded, "Agreed. That takes care of the easiest parts. Now comes the hardest part of this rescue."

"You mean it's not hard enough already?" asked Vila.

"The hardest part is trying not to get you or Avon killed," said Argus.

"You didn't tell me that before I volunteered," said Vila.

"Well if it makes you feel better, we're all going to be in the same danger."

"That makes me feel _much_ better," again the thief said it in a way which conveyed the exact opposite meaning.

"The moment we begin the attack, Federation Security will be alerted. That means reinforcements will arrive within minutes. Your role will be the most important Vila, how long do you think it will take you to get the lock open."

"Ask me after I talk to ORAC."

"Alright, regardless of how long it takes, we have to hold that position until we get Avon out. And we have to protect Vila until then."

"Hey, and after that too," said Vila. He could swear that he could see a slight grin on Argus's face.

"I'll give you a gun," Argus told him.

"That's not funny," said Vila. He was sure he could see an almost grin on the rebel leader's face.

"Once we get Avon out, the escape itself will be easy," said Argus."We teleport out. That means that you have to be on the alert the whole time we are down at the ambush point Cally."

"Don't worry, I will be ready," she replied.

"And Jenna will be monitoring the situation from the flight deck and will be ready to leave orbit the moment we are all onboard."

Jenna nodded.

"There is one additional problem," Commander Hent interjected. "How do we know that the Federation guards inside the transport will not kill Avon the moment they realize we are trying to rescue him?"

"I've already thought of that," said Argus. "Speed and timing will be the key, and two directional percussion grenades."

"I've heard of those but never seen them in action," said Hent.

"Some of the Federation commando units use them, for other purposes, but in our case, all we need to do is have Cally teleport several of us, and Vila, right next to the truck the moment the escort vehicles are taken out. A grenade will be attached to the truck and the percussive effects should set up a high intensity shock wave inside the vehicle, knocking everyone out."

"For how long?" Hent asked.

"It should be good for ten minutes. But we're taking two so that should give us a window of twenty minutes. Using more than two is not a good idea, or the people in the truck will suffer from severe concussion. We're all depending on you Vila."

They all looked towards the thief, who seemed to be trying his best to shrink but not having much luck.

"Now that we have a plan, let's work out the timing," said Argus.

* * *

Two days later, a still sedated prisoner A5428 was loaded onto the sealed transport with a contingent of Centre guards. The door of the vehicle was closed and the lock applied from the inside. Two heavily armed escort vehicles led the way, and two provided a rear-guard, as the procession started its journey to the remote testing facility outside Pacifica dome.

In the meantime, Sheldon Grene and his band of scruffy rebels had positioned themselves in concealed positions, not too far from where Argus's team were about to arrive.

The _Justice_ crew and the Athol Elite Guard, who had joined them, were about to teleport down to the ambush point which Argus and Commander Hent had decided on.

At the remote testing facility, Professor Tyler was trying not to look at her wrist chronometer every few minutes. She had not told the others on the research team what was being planned. It was much safer for them if they knew nothing, especially if something went wrong.


	15. Chapter 15

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Fighting Back**

Chapter Fifteen

"You look nervous Vila," said Jenna in the crowded teleport room. Various members of the Athol Elite Guard were putting on the unfamiliar teleport bracelets while the _Justice_ crew explained how to use them.

"I'm not nervous, this is my 'ready for anything' look," Vila told her.

"It doesn't look all that different from your 'I'm nervous' look," Jenna remarked jokingly as she sat beside Cally at the teleport control panel.

"It has a dual purpose," Vila said.

"We're ready," Commander Hent told Argus as the first group arranged themselves on the teleport pad.

"Cally send them down," Argus directed the Auron.

Cally pressed down the teleport control to send the first group down.

Several minutes later the Guard commander reported over the comm system.

"We're in position."

"Do you have them Cally?" asked Argus as he, the rest of the Guard, and the 'ready for anything' Vila stepped onto the teleport pad.

Cally was operating the directional controls on the teleport panel. On the screen she could see various objects representing the twelve Guardsmen who had just teleported down. They had been moving around but now they were all stationary, waiting. There was no sign of the convoy yet.

"Yes," she replied. "We just need the convoy now."

"Argus, there's something going on." Commander Hent's voice came over the ship's speaker. "I hear pulse fire, about half a mile from our position, to the north."

Argus activated the communicator from the teleport panel, "Hold where you are Hent, we're taking a look at it up here." He directed his attention to the Auron, "Cally?"

Cally's fingers were already moving quickly over the teleport controls. "I'm shifting the locator screen now."

Argus looked at the display on the screen which was shifting as she worked.

"There it is," he said pointing to numerous shapes which came onto the screen.

"Yes, Hent was right, it's about half a mile north of their position," Cally said. "Unfortunately, we can't tell what's going on using this."

"From the formation, this must be the convoy," Argus pointed. "And this looks like an ambush," he said, pointing to the shapes surrounding it. That was our alternate ambush point."

"It looks like someone beat us to it," Cally said.

"Someone's trying to get to Avon before we do," said Jenna.

"We can't let them do that," Cally said vehemently.

"I agree," said Argus. "Jenna, go to the flight deck, I think we may need to leave sooner than we planned."

Jenna nodded and rushed out.

Argus continued tracking the action on the screen. "It looks like the truck is trying to move off and the other ambush party is occupied by the escort vehicles. That probably means that Avon is still alive. It's an amateur effort."

_Amateur efforts usually get more people killed_ the rebel leader thought. He thumbed the communicator, "Hent there is an attack going on at our secondary ambush point. I'm going to send you over by teleport." Argus nodded to Cally; she set swiftly to work to bring the first group back up.

Argus continued, "The transport truck is trying to get away, I want you to stop it. The moment you do, we will teleport down and then I want you to shift your focus on helping the other group with the escorts. There don't appear to be any Federation reinforcements yet but keep an eye out."

"Understood," the Guard commander replied over the ship's comm. "We're ready."

"Have you got them Cally?"

"Yes."

"Alright, send them over," Argus directed her. Over the comm he told Hent, "Teleporting you now."

The Commander Hent and his Guard unit shimmered into view on the teleport pad for a few seconds and then immediately disappeared again. Argus, Vila, and the other Guards stepped back onto the platform.

After two minutes, Hent's voice sounded over the comm system, "Now!"

"Do it for Avon, Vila," Cally said to the thief just as she depressed the teleport controls and the second group disappeared.

Argus's group arrived in the middle of chaos. They all immediately crouched down to avoid the random pulse and laser rifle bursts. There also appeared to be old-fashioned projectile weapons also being used.

Argus instantly took in their situation; they were next to the stationary truck, there appeared to be two battle zones, in front and behind the truck. He could spot the dark brown and green fatigues of Hent's Guards. No one seemed to have noticed the new arrivals yet. _That won't last long_, he thought as he stood up and attached the percussion grenade to the side of the truck and set the directional control.

"Get behind the truck," said Argus in a low voice as he activated the grenade and moved off. Vila and the Guards did the same. The rebel leader could hear Vila cursing. "What's wrong?" Argus asked.

"I didn't step into anything this time," Vila told him.

"Have you looked around you? I think we all stepped into it this time," Argus said to him.

The grenade went off; it had a muffled explosive sound rather than the normal loud one.

They could almost hear all the heads around them turning towards the truck, then everything began exploding. The Federation reinforcements had arrived.

"Cover fire! Cover fire!" yelled Argus as he stood up and began firing his pulse rifle. He stopped for a second and reached around behind him and pulled up the still-crouched Vila. "Get it open! We don't have much time. I'll cover you." Argus positioned himself between Vila and everyone else, and continued firing.

The last thing Vila wanted to do was stand in the middle of a pitched battle with pulse bursts and laser tracers aimed at his back; and having Argus standing as a human shield was not any better. The last thing he wanted was to be even more confused as to whether he should be angry at this man or not.

_"Do it for Avon, Vila." That was a low blow, _thought Vila, as he recalled Cally's parting words just as she teleported him down into this mess. The thief began removing the tools from his kit and made preparations to open up the non-visible lock.

_You're going to owe me big time Avon_, thought the thief. He liked the sounds of that. _I'm never going to let you forget it. _Vila began slicing into the truck with a laser cutter. The cutter would take too long to cut through the thick armour plating but it was enough to expose the lock mechanism. Two pulse rifle bursts hit the truck, uncomfortably close to where Vila was standing. Argus immediately brought down the Federation soldier who had made his way closer to their position and had fired the shots.

Vila kept working; fear always sharpened his senses and enabled to him to work quicker.

"You have two more minutes before I have to use the second percussion grenade," Argus informed him.

At that moment, they both heard a loud click and the door began to swing open.

"Brilliant, Vila," Argus told the thief.

"Remember to tell Avon that," said Vila.

"Quickly, lets get him out before the guards wake up," Argus said as he pulled the door open the rest of the way. Inside they could see a host of guards on the ground and in their seats. Slumped in his own seat was a familiar looking form in grey prison coveralls.

Argus climbed into the truck, followed by Vila. Trying not to disturb the unconscious guards, they went over to Avon. They unstrapped him from his seat and between them, they lifted him up. Vila took an extra teleport bracelet from his kit bag. He hesitated as he saw the restraints already there, and then he became angry as he saw the numerous bruises and cuts on the man's wrists. He pushed Avon's sleeve up, scowling as he saw that the injuries extended up the arm as well, and clipped the teleport bracelet onto the unconscious man's arm.

"Alright, get him out and I'll tell the others," Argus directed Vila. He let go of Avon's arm and watched as Vila and Avon shimmered out of view. The rebel leader turned, jumped down from the truck and was grazed in the leg by a laser tracer. He ducked and in a running crouch headed towards Hent, who was shooting from a prone position behind a log, and directing his own Guards as they defended the truck.

As he saw Argus approaching, Hent said, "You got him?" 

"Yes, but don't leave just yet. Have you identified who the other ambush group is?"

"No, but I was able to communicate to them that we're on their side. They appear to have several injuries on their side. None of my men have been hit."

"Have you identified their leader?"

"The one behind the tree." Hent pointed to a man in a dark green jacket and dark brown pants, and firing a laser rifle about fifty feet from them.

"Cover me," said Argus as he picked up a fist-sized rock, knelt up and threw it. The rock hit the tree just above the other leader's head. The man whirled around, pointing his rifle at Argus but stopped as the rebel leader raised his hand with an open palm faced outwards with fingers spread.

"We have him. Get your people out, we'll cover you," Argus shouted to the man.

The other leader hesitated, and then nodded.

Argus, Hent and the Guards provided cover as the other group retreated, then they teleported back to the ship.

"Are all your men here?" Argus asked as they arrived back on the _Justice_.

The Guard commander replied, "Yes, everyone is accounted for."

The rebel leader, activated the ship's comm and said, "Jenna, we're all back, get us out of here. I'll be right there."

"If you don't need me anymore," said Cally, her voice trailed off.

"Of course," said Argus, "I should have thought of it. We'll take care of things here. Go."

Cally rushed out.

As Cally reached the ship's medical bay, she was filled with trepidation. Avon had not looked good when Vila and one of the Guards had carried him to the medical bay.

"How is he doing Vila?" she asked the instant she entered.

"You're not going to like it," Vila warned her, extending the bio-scanner he was holding so she could take it.

Avon lay on a bio-bed. Vila had removed the restraints from his arms and legs, revealing deep bruises and cuts on his wrists. Even in sleep, he looked tired and strained. Cally pored over the readings on the scanner. What she saw almost brought tears to her eyes, and a desire to lash out at someone, which was not like her.

_How can someone have this many injuries and not die? _Even as Cally thought that, she saw the answer on the readings. _They wouldn't even let you die, would they? You must have been in constant pain. Who would be cruel enough to do this to you? And why? _

Cally already knew who. It was the only person she hated with all her heart, the woman who destroyed her people; it was Servalan.

_We will kill her one day Avon. You and I. I promise you that._

Vila had been watching Cally as she read the bio-scanner. He had been shocked when he had first done the readings himself. When they had rescued Avon from the Federation the first time, Vila had seen the marks of torture on his body and knew that they had done terrible things to him; but he had never known the extent of the injuries. As he saw the reaction on Cally's face, he wanted to reach out to her.

"It's not good is it?" he asked her.

"You can't even guess," she told him.

"What do you mean?"

"These injuries, there are so many of them, and inflicted over a long period of time. It should have killed him many times over, but they didn't let him die. There are signs of advanced healing methods being used."

"That's what Avon said. He said that they killed him so many times, that he lost count; but each time they brought him back so that they could torture him more."

"Stop Vila!" Cally told him. She did not want to cry, there was too much to do.

"I'm sorry," Vila looked distressed.

Cally hardened herself, dropped the bio-scanner on the table and unzipped Avon's coveralls. For the next little while, she would be nothing but an efficient but gentle medic. Vila helped as best he could. She found that with his nimble fingers, the thief would have made a good healer, if he didn't flinch at the sight of blood.

"Why isn't he waking up?" Vila asked. "Argus said the percussion grenade should have worn off in ten minutes."

"That's a good question," Cally said, picking up the bio-scanner and making some adjustments. She had been so focused on healing Avon's wounds that it had not occurred to her.

"They gave him a sedative of some kind," she told him, "but it should be wearing off soon." As the scanner registered more drugs in his system, Cally began feeling angry again; this was as bad as the readings of the injuries. She wanted to throw the bio-scanner across the room before it told her that even worse things had been done to the analyst. She took a deep breath. _No Cally. Your patient needs you._

She continued working on Avon's injuries.

"Why? Why would they do this to him Cally? I mean, they know we have ORAC and the ship. And they never tried to use him to get at us. I don't get it."

"Unfortunately, these readings don't give us any answers to the why," she told him. "The only one who can tell us is Avon."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"I will be fine."

_Do you think he will hate you? _Vila almost asked her. After all this time, he still didn't understand why Avon did what he did when he went to Terrus to save Cally; especially when Avon was so ready to dump the thief out of the autoshuttle to save himself. _I want some answers too, Avon._

"Do you think he hates me?" Cally asked Vila. "If they hadn't used me against him, they would never have been able to do this to him."

The thief managed to look guilty; it was almost as if she could read his mind. Jenna was not the only person on the Liberator who had been uncomfortable with having a telepath aboard; even if she said that she couldn't read their minds. Of course, the fact that she had a pretty face had also played a factor in his relationship with her.

They both looked down at the sleeping man. He had saved one of them and almost killed the other, and neither of them understood why.

Epilogue

The other band of would-be rescuers were lucky to escape with their lives. Several of them had been wounded, two seriously. Sheldon Grene waited for Brena at their arranged meeting point, she never showed up.

The phase-TD engine tests were completed a month later and a new fleet of ships commissioned at the Ovyhra Shipyards.

Professor Ekron and the two engineers returned to their posts. None of them had any recollection of ever having worked with a brilliant unnamed prisoner who had made a key contribution to their research.

Professor Brena Tyler was never heard from again.

Sheldon Grene made it his goal to find her.

The Federation President was very angry that Avon had been lost. She was resolved that the next time she saw him again, would be his last.


End file.
